


The Magician and the Sound Thieves

by Zephirat



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Linkin Park
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Milton Keynes, Music, Musicians, Other, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 57,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephirat/pseuds/Zephirat
Summary: The Doctor and Clara Oswald hope to spend a funny Summer afternoon at a music festival, but unexpectedly they are confronted with an alien threat that intends to invade Earth, turning all its inhabitants into undead.A different adventure where the Twelfth Doctor and Clara Oswald cross paths with the American band Linkin Park.
Relationships: Chester Bennington/Mike Shinoda, The Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 84
Kudos: 5





	1. Let's start with a foreword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraTucker123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraTucker123/gifts).
  * A translation of [O Magico e os Ladroes de Som](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/668689) by Zephirat (Andre Tornado). 



> This story is my first attempt to translate a story of my own from Portuguese to English.  
> Hope this is OK.  
> Brace yourselves for this strange adventure with the Doctor, Clara Oswald and Linkin Park, and have fun!

He grabbed the plastic bottle with his left hand. He removed the cap, pulled in the bottleneck to his mouth. He drank the entire cold water in generous sips. He licked his lips, snapped his tongue saying “ah!” to indicate how satisfied he was.

The temperature was unbearable on the backstage. The dressing rooms were made of metal partitions that seemed to concentrate the heat inside. To make it worse, the floor was carpeted and drapes served as space separators for each band member, plus their guests, assistants and technical staff.

Still with the bottle, now empty, in his hand, he peered down the hall to look for any movement, but everything remained quiet, as boiled in the hot air. He sighed, bored. He threw the bottle into the trash can placed in a corner. He had already drunk three bottles of water since he arrived there.

We went back to the dressing room to check his equipment. Everything had to be perfect, tuned and aligned for the next show. It was a huge presentation that would be recorded by several cameras arranged in the enclosure to capture different angles. The film would then be edited and offered for sale in DVD format. The audio recording of the concert would also be made. An album with some songs was to be released with the best songs, those with an excellent performance, because they already played and sang as they did on their studio records.

In other words, it was an important day for the band. A special day for everyone, for their career and also for their future. They were told outside was the biggest crowd of that tour – about fifty-five thousand souls screaming their name!

He heard someone laughing nearby, he recognized the vocalist’s voice who was laughing louder.

He pursed his lips, he would now go to see the others. He had never liked to wait alone, anyway. He would become more nervous if he started to reflect about his responsibility in the show.

They played very well together, but it was normal to have some initial apprehension before going on stage. Then, when he started with the first sounds – it was always he who kicked-off the show, with pre-recorded music – he went into automatic mode and everything was just normal and simple. As if he always belonged there. He didn’t feel diminished when facing the crowd gathered there to watch them perform, he didn’t bother with the heavy heat from the spotlights, there was nothing, when he was surrounded by music, that could harm or hurt him. He felt almost invincible, unable to make mistakes.

Too much pride, he said to himself and he was satisfied for being proud, to the point of being unpleasant.

He wiped his forehead with his arm.

Outside, the temperature was milder, it wasn’t that brutal heat there even though it was five in the afternoon of a Summer day. He hesitated. He could take a walk around the gigantic enclosure and then go to meet with his friends. Stretch his legs, distract himself by counting clouds or doing something stupid like that. But it could also happen he ending up being questioned by security who were policing the place and then he had to show his identification card, say who he was, that he was part of the circus… such things. Sometimes happened the people hired to help in the backstage didn’t know who they were – it was a job like any other, they were there to earn their money, with no obligation of admiring the artists – and already happen embarrassing scenes in which the band members were mistreated for being mistaken as fans. The confusion with him was quite frequent. As he was further back on stage and he wasn’t part of the recognizable duo, the singers and composers, the security used to harass him to return to the catering trailer. He was invariably confused with one of the cooks!

He thought better of it and kept his decision to go to the others. We weren’t in the mood to put up with ignorant and moody security staff.

We went to the table and took out another bottle. He began to uncapped it, applying the light pressure to break the plastic ring that sealed it.

He noticed a greenish stain that meandered, like a snake of dirt, on the table, where it leaned against the back partition. He grimaced, disgusted, seeing that crap. He lifted the bottle to see if the bottom had remnants of that green matter, which he noticed was similar to moss. By instinct, he wiped the bottle in the wide blouse he was wearing, while watching the thing.

He didn’t remember seeing the stain there when he went for the bottle before the one he was holding. Everything was clean and impeccable in the dressing rooms, even in the hallways. The show organizers were very careful with the space hygiene and presentation, because they knew the band was followed by thousands of people on the internet and didn’t want negative publicity.

He narrowed his eyes to analyse the stain, overcoming the disgust to be looking at it. He approached slowly, lowering his nose until it was just a few inches from the table. He had held his breath, afraid of the smell that might come from there, so, reluctant he inspired in the approaching process and realized, surprised, that there was no odour.

But the stain had a peculiarity that intrigued him. Seen up close, it seemed to move in an opaque glow, in soft palpitations that resembled bubbles that were about to burst. As if it were some slimy matter taken from a swampy pool.  
He stretched out his index finger and carefully scrapped the spot with his fingernail. It was neither cold nor hot.

He straightened his back and looked at the little piece crowning his fingertip like a small dark helmet. He rotated his finger a few times to check all the sample sides, but he didn’t find nothing interesting. It was simple dirt. He looked up and found no drip or splinter in the thick pipes crossing the dressing room ceiling that could originate that slime. He looked at his finger again.

Suddenly, a humming sound penetrated his eardrums and he petrified in that stupid position. Legs slightly apart, left arm by the side, plastic bottle in the left hand, index finger of his right hand outstretched pointing to the sky with a dirty fingernail, parted lips, half-closed eyes, a sweaty forehead, an expressionless and pale face.

He couldn’t move.

He panicked, but his affliction wasn’t being show in his expression, as he remained still, unable to activate any of his muscles. The affliction was all within him. It was his spirit that was screaming, as he was being invaded and pulled away. It was his spirit that was struggling to get rid of that thing with many hands who grabbed him and stretched him like a blanket.

He was in the dark screaming, fighting, being overwhelmed by that thing that had entered his system through his fingernail. It was a kind of a fungus covering him, or rather, completely covering his spirit and removing him from reality, patiently replacing, one by one, his body cells from the immateriality of his soul.

He was being colonized! He was being eliminated!

However, he didn’t fall. He remained standing, motionless, static, expressionless, catatonic. Submissive and vulnerable.

He cried for help, but his mouth didn’t move or made any sound.

Then, he turned on his heels. He dropped the water bottle and went sleepwalking to join his friends. He knew he was dangerous – when the others contact him, they’d became infected and sick with the same disease it was consuming him. However, he had completely lost control of the situation.

He needed to be saved. And the others, soon, would also need to be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:  
> A Summer day full of promises.


	2. A Summer day full of promises

A blue police box materialized in broad daylight. No one passing in that street seemed to have noticed it or the two figures emerging from its inside. It was as if it had always been there, that relic from old times.

As she was coming outside, Clara exclaimed:

“What a lovely Summer day!”

The Doctor, however, didn’t share his companion enthusiasm. He looked very seriously at the clear sky and all that bucolic silence seemed, somehow, extraordinary.

“I’m so excited!”, Clara was saying, jumping like a child at Christmas about to receive her presents. “It’s a dream… it’s _almost_ a dream come true. I never thought it was possible to get tickets to attend this wonderful event! They said it was sold out. We are going to be part of History!”

The Doctor grunted, in an opposite mood. He looked from the sky to her, frowning. He’d preferred to be elsewhere and wasn’t at all pleased with the prospects of that day. The deliberate ones. And the obscure ones.

“Hum…”

“Come on, Doctor… you’ll like them. I know you will.”

“I doubt it.”

She pursed her mouth with a frown and crossed her arms.

“You always criticize my choices. When I choose a destination on the console, I end up having to put up with a dissertation from you about my decision at the time of our arrival. It is either the place, or the historical relevance…”

“That’s not true!”, the Doctor claimed, raising his eyebrows.

“So, name anything I like that deserves your approval. Come on, Doctor! Come on, enlighten me.”

The Doctor looked at her from the bottom to the top, running his eyes through her tiny and slender figure. He wanted to tell her that loved her miniskirts, but thought it best not to make that confession. She was trying to start an argument and he didn’t intend to follow that obvious path.

“Carrot pie?”, he risked.

“I don’t like carrot pie.”

“Oh, that’s a new one! You’ve always loved carrot pie.”

“You must be mistaken me with one of my _echoes_.”

He hesitated. Perhaps he was really confusing her with one of those multiple Clara versions who wondered scattered in time and space that he couldn’t save, despite all his efforts and good will. And he felt incredibly sad about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, it’s quite annoying when you do that”, she said, without realizing the Doctor was not apologizing just for the mistake with the carrot pie. “You confuse everything, implying you don’t care so much about… what’s around you.”

“Well, Clara, when we live several lives it’s normal to have everything mixed up.”

She snapped her tongue and didn’t reply. She was crossed with him and it wasn’t a current subject. In those last few days, the Doctor had noticed that Clara didn’t answered him the same way she always did. He thought she might be angry because of those earthly problems, petty typical human issues, but now he realized it was because of him.

“What you want from me, Clara? I always take you where you want to go, I let you operate the console and let you take the most important decision regarding navigation, I only know where we are going when we reach the destination. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Sometimes… or _every time_ it’s not enough.”

“Oh! We’re here because you wanted to come. Maybe I should go where I _want_ to go.”

Clara crossed her arms and looked down with her nose.

“Are you going to leave me here and take the TARDIS with you? To watch that _crucial_ game for Humanity? It’s just a football game! There are dozens of football games happening every day, everywhere.”

“I don’t need to take the TARDIS” he said. “I can watch the game in a pub. It’s a final. Any miserable little bar equipped with a television set will be broadcasting the match between Germany and Spain, that will decide, in a few hours, the European champion. I’d rather be at the stadium, yes, wearing a supporter scarf and singing the usual tribal chanting set for those occasions. It’s not _just_ a football game, similar to all those dozens happening every day.” he concluded, acid.

“It’s OK. You can go. I don’t mind.”

However, the Doctor didn’t move a muscle. He wanted to go to the European Football Championship final match, happening that Sunday, June 29th, 2008, in Vienna, capital of Austria, that was a fact. But it wouldn’t be the same thing without Clara. To whom could he tell the interesting things about sport? He needed someone to admire his intelligence.

He had already watched several football finals – he had even witnessed the creation of the game itself – but that final was a special one, since on the pitch the national teams of Germany and Spain would face each other in an unprecedent match to decide the European champion. Germany was the football all-mighty team, a boring squad wearing the proverb as a crown, “in the field is eleven against eleven but, in the end, Germany wins”; in other words, it wasn’t funny if Germany won again. Predictable and, therefore, boring… He was cheering for Spain, obviously, and decorated the TARDIS with little yellow and red flags…

The other option for the day was the show chosen by Clara, happening that same day of June in England, in the quiet village of Milton Keynes, located some seventy kilometres northwest of London, in Buckinghamshire. There was nothing there relevant marking that place on the map of major world events. Except for musical festivals in the enclosure called the National Bowl, an ancient clay pit where bricks were manufactured, which was transformed into a lowered amphitheatre

When the Doctor noticed the arrival date on the console monitor, June 29th 2008, he got excited. He told about the European championship, he praised his companion’s choice, he stated that it was one of the football games he always wanted to watch live, and rushed to decorate the TARDIS with the national Spanish team colours. But when Clara told him they were at the green prairies of old Albion to watch a show, instead of a football game, his enthusiasm waned to almost nil.

“What’s so special about these _Linkin Park_ , after all?”, the Doctor asked, annoyed. “They look like a bunch of angry kids with the world.”

“They are very mature!”, Clara defended. “Well… at least their music is mature. It became more mature after their 2007 album, called ‘ _Minutes to Midnight’_. And as we are in 2008, here and now, we are going to witness the band’s turning point. Eh… Yes, at the beginning their songs spoke a lot about teenage angst and misfit kids’ problems, but now their new songs have political messages.”

“Ah, political messages…”

“The album title itself, Doctor”, Clara insisted, impatiently. “ _Minutes to Midnight_! That clock counting the minutes to doomsday… If we get closer to midnight, the Humanity is also closer to annihilation… Linkin Park’s song lyrics are deeper than they appear to be, at first glance.”. And she concluded: “They _are_ special.”

“I hope they are really special, because they are giving me a headache. There are other possibilities related to music happening on this day, you know. A festival is also taking place in Glastonbury and I believe it’s more famous than this one. Today Mr. Leonard Cohen will be singing there.”

“Oh, really?”, Clara said, bored. “And, what else?”

“Enrique Iglesias will be singing at the football match.” The Doctor casually looked at the sky. “If we return to the TARDIS now, we can still catch his presentation on the stadium. And we are going to be in Vienna. In the evening, we’ll be dancing a waltz listening to Johann Strauss’s violin… with himself playing, at a social reception in a ballroom in the 19th century.”

“I thought you could watch the game in a pub”

“I’ve changed my mind. After all, I have a spaceship that is a time machine.”

“We can watch both, then… Because you, Doctor, have a time machine.”

“Let’s start with the game?”, he tried with a seductive smile.

“I prefer to start with the angry kids, thank you very much.”

The Doctor sighed, accepting his defeat.

“Let’s go!”

Clara was surprised when he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the show’s enclosure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, The Doctor and Clara are set to go to Linkin Park's show at Milton Keynes. But one of the band members is infected with some strange green thing... what will happen next?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Among the crowd.


	3. Among the crowd

The Doctor and Clara still had to walk for a while, behind groups of noisy young men dressed in black t-shirts printed with the Linkin Park logo, until they found out they needed to catch a bus that would drop them off at the amphitheatre where the festival was happening. The Doctor cursed loudly with his spaceship, because the TARDIS seemed to enjoy never taking him to the right places for each travel.

Clara was becoming more and more excited as they were joining the crowd that was going to watch the show. By the other hand, the Doctor kept his rigid attitude and was nourishing a certain impatience that made him grumpy and snob.

They stopped at one of the bus stops, at the end of a queue, where boys were commenting about the band’s evolution in musical terms, in a heated debate about favourite songs. The Doctor crossed his arms.

“This is going to be an amazing day”, he muttered.

“Has the football game started?”

“No, Clara, it hasn’t.”

“So, there is still time for you to discover a pub with a television to watch that famous final match between Germany and Spain, that will happen in Austria, Vienna. Or you can go with the TARDIS to the centre of Europe. I don’t mind, really, I don’t, if you take the TARDIS. I know you’ll come for me later. I do not force you to watch the angry kids perform, if you’re so doubtful and squeamish.

“Hum…”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Nothing, Clara.”

“I’ll be fine, Doctor. This crowd is peaceful. We are all here committed to watch a musical show, this is not a protest against a dictator who needs to be overthrown for the good of the nation. The situation is not dangerous. Nothing will happen to me; you don’t need to be worried with my physical integrity.”

“I don’t’ know.”

Clara found that answer strange.

“You don’t’ know… You don’t know if you’re going or if you’re staying?”

“I’m staying.”

“Is something happening that I don’t know about?”

The Doctor looked around them.

“Why are we here, waiting by this pole?”

“The pole is a bus stop where we can catch a public transportation. Didn’t you hear that boy? He gave us precise indications about the bus we need to catch, made available by the festival organization, that will take us to the amphitheatre. We could walk, it’s true, but it’s quite a distance to walk, we’ll arrive very tired. I’m counting on jumping a lot during the show! I can’t be tired now.

“What is the TARDIS up to?”, the Doctor observed, thoughtfully.

“Do you think the TARDIS sense something? Or is it you? Since we arrived here…

“Look, there’s our bus”, the Doctor said, stretching his arm over his companion’s head. “It’s so small! And with so many people standing here to bord! We’ll all be squeezed inside. I hope the journey will be short. This whole experience seems absurd to me when I have my own vehicle. And I don’t think it’s useful to add this kind of knowledge to my personal resume.”

Clara frowned, suspicious of the Doctor’s attitude. She could understand he would prefer a football match to being surrounded by teenagers with pimples on their faces, but it was something else there he wasn’t revealing. Perhaps not event himself knew what it was, at that stage, despite his disturbance. An innuendo hidden in the air…

They entered the bus and stood in the narrow corridor. The young men were getting more excited and some of them were singing songs loudly, making a racket. The Doctor looked at Clara, wiggling his eyebrows, asking her the silent question if those screams were the songs they were about to hear.

“Oh! You play electric guitar!”, she said, exasperated.

“I like music, I don’t deny it.”

“You’ll like this music too. _Trust_ me.”

“I trust you, Clara. Since we’ve met that I trust you.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“Yes, I already know _it’s going_ to be fun. But it will be bearable?”

Luckily, the bus ride was really short. They got out at a second stop. The bus left to make another trip and bring more passengers, another bus was arriving. From that observation point, it was possible to see the amphitheatre. Its capacity was for sixty-five thousand people, but it seemed the audience was bigger. The entrances were limited by metallic stalls forming hallways where long queues of loud fans were waiting their way to enter.

The Doctor grimaced. Another bad feeling. He recognized the impression, it was like he had eaten spoiled food, or worse.

“I know that face,” Clara insisted. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… or everything. It’s difficult to know, exactly”, he replied, mysteriously. He was looking around him, searching for clues, but all he could see was people and more people and endless people.

“If you don’t want to tell me, then just don’t tell me!” Clara exclaimed, furious and crossed her arms.

“I don’t like to wait in queues.”

“We could’ve arrived exactly when the show starts, or the TARDIS could’ve left us in the backstage, with special passes as the band’s guests. Thus, you’d meet the angry kids, you’d talk to them and you’d learn they are not what you are imagining they are, that they love music as much as you, and they’d could even invite you to play with them one of their songs on stage. That would be a terrific idea! The Doctor playing with Linkin Park…”

“Clara, that’s a terrific idea, indeed!”

She blinked rapidly.

“You’re going to play with Linkin Park?”

He grabbed her hand again, pulled her with him and they ran around the amphitheatre. Clara asked several times what was happening, but the Doctor didn’t answer. They reached a more discreet spot, on the enclosure’s façade backside, behind where all the entrances were. There were tall partitions, and big menacing men, dressed in black, with the word ‘Security’ written on their t-shirts and vests. They were doing some kind of patrol and were guarding that restrict area.

The Doctor straightened his coat, combed his hair with one hand.

“What are we doing here?”, Clara asked, breathless.

“We are going to meet your angry kids.”

“What?”

“Don’t’ you want to meet them… in person? We are going to talk with the band, before the show. It was your suggestion.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion; it was more of an idea… that I putted out of my mind. Yes, it was an idea.”

“And as such, we avoid all those queues. It’s a fantastic idea. And we can find out what is happening.”

“Is something happening?”

The Doctor and Clara looked at each other.

He extended his arm, gave her passage in a courtesy and she walked forward.

One of the security guards raised his hand, standing in their way, and grunted:

“Stop! You can’t be here, you two.” He shoved his thumbs in his belt and spoke loudly, as if they were deaf or stupid: “Do you have tickets for the show? Present them at the proper entrance. It’s that way, ma’am. Gentleman. Please follow the instructions shown on the panels. Everything is well explained.”

The Doctor withdrew the psychic paper from his coat’s inner pocket and showed it.

The security guard stiffened.

“Ah, doctor! I beg your pardon. I didn’t know it was you… They are waiting for you, sir. Can you please join me? Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor was expected on the backstage?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> An appeal and a mystery.


	4. An appeal and a mystery

Clara whispered to the Doctor:

“They are waiting for _you_?”

The Doctor shrugged and put the psychic paper back in his coat. They followed the security guard who was taking them further inside the restricted area. Before that, he communicated something briefly to the walkie-talkie he had pinned in his left shoulder. He made them a sign with his fingers to follow him.

“And what do you know that you are not telling me?”

“I don’t know what is happening, Clara.”

“That’s not it, Doctor. I’m asking about the part that you _know_. After all,… you know Linkin Park and you were just making some kind of a joke about them being angry kids.”

“I could know them, as I know the Beatles. John Lennon is an excellent boy… He still owes me two pounds of a bet we made, in Hamburg, when they were playing in the Reeperbahn. However, my dear Clara, I don’t know these angry kids of yours.”

“They are not _mine_ …”

“I have no idea who they might be. Do you know their names?”

“They are six boys. The ones I know best are Mike and Chester.”

“Oh, yes! Very interesting…”

“What’s very interesting?”

“Your knowledge about the angry kids is not very profound.”

“I know what I need to know”, she said, offended. “I know some of their famous songs. And I know all their names!”

“Will you sing their songs during the show?”

“I hope to sing during the show, of course. But why are they waiting for you, Doctor? If they don’t know you.”

“That’s where we are identical, Clara.”

“Identical? Me and you?”

“Yes. Two identical and perfect ignorants.”

“Ah!”

The security guard lead them to a vast courtyard, covered by a stretched canvas supported by several poles, like a giant tent. In there, they saw a woman carrying a clipboard, using a plastified identification card attached to a red ribbon, hanging around her neck. She was speaking to a tall robust man who was listening to her, concerned, his arms crossed.

“I don’t know what happened”, she was saying. “Until an hour ago they were in a good mood, excited to play at this venue, at Milton Keynes. They know this show is going to be filmed and recorded, they know it’ll be used to promote the Projekt Revolution. They weren’t nervous or reluctant. They were excited, as I said. That’s the right word. Excited. But then, they went into the largest dressing room, the cosiest one, and locked themselves inside. They say it’s a personal problem and they don’t let anyone in.”

“Did Chester break one of Mike’s oriental vases again?”, the man asked.

“If that was the case, I would have known. Mike screams like a little girl every time he loses one of his vases. His voice changes completely. He could shatter glass with those screams!”

“Cammy, focus!”

“Yes, I’m focused”, the woman replied, upset.

“In a few minutes, we’re gonna need them to start the show. Linkin Park are never late. If they aren’t on time upon that stage, the crowd will get suspicious that something has happened.”

“In fact, something did happen! They are locked inside that dressing room and are not allowing anyone to enter there.”

“Cammy…”

“I’m taking care of it. I’ve requested help.”

“What kind of help?”

The Doctor interrupted them.

“Excuse me. I am the Doctor and this is my…”

“Oh, Thank God! You’re here!”, the woman exclaimed, raising her arms

The Doctor had his hand inside his coat to withdraw again the psychic paper, but he stopped, realizing that even there they knew who he was and they were expecting him. Clara noticed that the man grimaced.

“Are we talking about… external help?”

“When we are unable to solve our problems internally, Tom, we need external help”, the woman explained, squinting, mixing complacency with anger.

“Are you sure we need help… that kind of help? I’m sorry, you said you were…?”

“I am the Doctor and this is my…”

The woman grabbed the Doctor’s elbow and started pulling him.

“The presentations are for another occasion, Tom. I’m sorry. As you said, Linkin Park are never late and they need to go to that stage in a few minutes. Come quickly, doctor. We’ve already wasted precious time. And you heard my boss, Tom is his name. We need to solve this as fast as we can… and with the utmost discretion.”

Clara followed the woman and the Doctor, exchanging a glance with Tom who was now totally puzzled and resigned.

The woman introduced herself.

“My name is Cammy. We spoke on the telephone. Thank you so much for answering our call, despite having your schedule filled.” She continued holding the Doctor’s elbow and dragged him across a carpeted hallway, lit by tall lamps, as in an ordinary England street. The atmosphere was beautiful and ghostly.

“There is no problem, Cammy. I never refuse an appeal… and a mystery.”

“Hello. I’m Clara. I’m the Doctor’s assistant.”, Clara said, interrupting the conversation.

“Hi, Clara.”, Cammy said, without looking at her.

The hallway opened onto an area with containers, close together, the various boxes for the staff and also for the band. The dressing rooms. The interiors were lit and some had their doors wide open. Most of them were simple structures, composed of metal partitions and draperies. People came and went, in the typical bustle of a grand artistic show’s entourage.

They were on the backstage and from there they could hear the crowd screaming and shouting the band’s name, waiting for the great musical party. The three stopped in front of a closed container. Cammy was still holding the Doctor’s elbow. Clara crossed her arms, angry with that unreasonable intimacy.

“This is where they rehearse and where they rest. They have been inside for about an hour and don’t allow anyone to enter. I’ve been insisting a lot, this past twenty minutes, because their attitude it’s not normal, moreover when they are about to get on stage. They are excellent boys and they’re doing this for a long time, you see. It’s not that typical stage fright, prior to a show to a larger crowd that they’re used to. It’s another thing. I know it’s another thing. And they don’t want to tell me!”. The woman added the last phrase in a resentful tone.

She knocked three times on the container’s door and it was only then she released the Doctor’s elbow. Clara felt relieved, but didn’t uncrossed her arms.

“We’re busy!”, someone yelled inside the container.

“It’s me. It’s Cammy. The doctor you asked for is here with me.”

“They asked, I was against that idea!”, a second voice said.

“Thank you, Cammy. Could you leave now, please?”, a third voice asked.

“Mike! What’s going on? Everyone is waiting for you!”

“Could you leave now, please?”

Cammy blushed, angrily, but she did as she was asked. She made a sign with her fingers, indicating that they had little time to solve that problem and went away. The Doctor knocked on the door, as soon as she left.

“Are you the doctor?”, someone asked.

“Yes, it’s me. I am the Doctor.”

A little gap appeared in the container. A pair of eyes made a brief inspection, to make sure the woman was really gone. Afterwards the door was opened wide.

Clara covered her mouth with her hand, holding up a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did Clara see? We'll know very soon...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The damnation of the future.


	5. The damnation of the future

Clara wanted to scream, but at the same time the horror was such that the scream remained stuck on her throat, making it hurt, like if she was with the flu.

Her vision was covered by a bearded individual, with oriental features and pale as a bedsheet.

“Who is she? What’s she doing here? We asked for a physician! We don’t need the full emergency service.”

“She is my companion… assistant… in medical terms”, the Doctor informed, his voice hoarse and imperative. But vague and curious too, because if Clara had stop seeing, he was still facing what was happening.

“Mike”, a second individual said, red-haired and also with a beard, who came closer, putting his hand on the first individual’s shoulder. “Mike, please, they are the professionals, let them… work. Let them present their diagnoses and then…”

“Dave, I’m just controlling the damages”, the first individual answered, unwavering.

The door was open, and it was possible to hear the screams outside increasingly excited, the roar demanding the band and the beginning of the show. Clara remained petrified in the same position, barred by the two men who questioned her in different ways – threatening and condescending. She was so scared and baffled, that she didn’t realize she had, in front of her, Mike Shinoda and Dave Farrell, who used Phoenix as a nickname, from the band Linkin Park. The vocalist and founder, and the bassist.

A third individual, the tallest one, came very quietly and closed the door behind her.

“If we don’t want any witnesses, let’s remain… discreet”, Rob Bourdon, the drummer, said. He asked Clara: “Are you all right, honey? Do you want a glass of water?”

Mike opened his arms and warned, hysterically, in the same girlish tone he used to speak when someone broke one of his oriental vases:

“Nobody will drink water or eats anything until we found out what’s causing that! Doctor?!! Doctor, we need you to tell us what’s going on in here.” And he turned back.

“Is he a doctor? He’s not dressed like an health professional… He looks like a magician”, Rob pointed.

“A magician?”, Dave asked.

“Yes… Check out his coat.”

“Shush. Don’t add more confusion to this.”

“I was just…”

“Shush, Rob.”

The Doctor withdrew the sonic screwdriver. He hesitated to turn it on. First, he was making a previous analysis with his senses. Smelling, listening, feeling, looking, with his eyebrows twitching, uneasy, over his intense blue eyes.

Clara dodged the barrier formed by Mike and Dave, and once again saw what amazed her so much.

In the centre of that room, standing on a wrinkled and scorched rug, as if the object was exposed to a high temperature, stood Linkin Park’s disc-jockey, Joe Hahn, motionless and unresponsive. An authentic statue. Nothing on him was moving, not even his eyelids on the necessary and periodic blinking to moisten the eyes, not even a slight trembling of the fingers, or a tiny wiggling of his leg’s muscles, or the throbbing of the jugular in his neck. Everything in him was apparently normal, frozen in that fixed position of a three-dimensional picture, except for the green slime covering his hair, dripping in thick drops down his head. The sliding of this gluey matter was suspended, in a programmed slowness, waiting for the trigger to continue the contamination and the total appropriation of the body chosen to its development.

“What’s wrong with him, doctor?”, a fourth individual asked. He had a thick and curly hair, a bushy beard too. Clara recognized Brad Delson, the main guitarist. He had the hands inside his pockets, and that’s how he disguised his apprehension and his trembling arms. He was more scared than the others. “We found Joe like this… Irresponsive and with that… stuff in his head. What’s that green stuff? He had a water bottle in his hand… We removed it and that’s the only piece of evidence from the crime… uh… from the event in which we touched. The scene is untouched, unless that bottle that we changed place. That’s why we shouldn’t drink the water, could be the water. We thought mould and…”

“No one gets into a coma because of mould!”, the fifth individual shouted, angrily.

Clara finally saw Chester Bennington, the band’s moody vocalist, retreated on a corner, in panic mode. He was sweaty, flushed and very upset.

“We don’t know if he’s really in a coma…”

“Shut up, Delson! He doesn’t show any sign that he can see us, or even being here. We spoke with him and he didn’t listen. I pinched him and he didn’t even groan. In fact, I was the only one who touched him. Maybe I’ve already caught that same disease. You all know how fragile my health is. Fuck…

“If he is in a coma, how come he’s standing? People in a coma are laying down, as far as I know…”

“How the fuck do I know?!”, Chester yelled. “I’m not a doctor! Didn’t we call a doctor to…”

“Let’s calm down, we look like a bunch of lunatics!”, Dave said, talking over the vocalist screams. Brad stepped back and flinched. “The physician has arrived and he will help us.”

“He’s better hurry up with the diagnosis”, Rob said, calmly. Too calm even for that scenario where everyone’s nerves were clearly on the edge. “We have a show to perform. We should be on stage, by now…”

“Ah!”, Chester resented. “You’re worried about the show?! Bourdon, you set extremely well your priorities! Joe is dying and you want to go out and play your drums?”

The drummer gently shook his head.

“He’s not dying, Chaz.”

“How do you know, hum? How do you know?”

“Truly? I don’t know. I just don’t.” He underlined the syllables as he was saying that. He was trying to calm things down, but it sounded like a provocation in that hot-headed environment. “However, I know that I’m listening to our fans, and they are calling for us, they want to see and to hear us. I don’t put the show in front of our friend’s good health, but it’s a fact that we’ll have to play, today, sooner or later.”

“The fans can go f…”

“Shut up, Chester. Please!”, Mike said, shaking his hands.

“Doctor”, Clara murmured.

The Doctor turned on the sonic screwdriver. The usual vibration sound was heard, indicating the useful tool was working and ready to respond to the command indicated by the code inserted in its technologically advanced mechanism.

And when the sound emerged in the brief silence, the green slime trembled and moved. A thick drop formed a bubble and slid into Joe’s forehead.

“No!!”, Chester shouted, when he saw that. “No, the thing is moving! It’s getting worse, it’s getting uncontrollable.”

The Doctor paled, his complexion matched Mike’s.

“Doctor?!”, the Japanese asked.

The Doctor immediately turned off the sonic screwdriver. He took a step back, while he was putting it in his coat’s inner pocket.

“Clara?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“There’s nothing I can do here. Minutes to midnight, isn’t it?... Mankind is about to meet its end. The epidemic has started. We’re leaving.”

Clara didn’t want to believe what she was hearing. The Doctor… without a solution? She looked at Mike. She saw Chester in the corner, Dave and Brad waiting, Rob curious. Joe in the centre of everything, unaware of what was happening. The Doctor… without hope?

And somehow, she had managed to remember all their names!

“We cannot leave”, she protested. “We cannot leave them with this problem that is clearly beyond their control and ingenuity to solve. It’s a disease, isn’t it? You said it is an epidemic… So, there must be some form to fight this… these bacteria, virus, creature, whatever… Doctor? Doctor!”

But the Doctor had already opened the door and left the dressing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor left?...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The discarded innocents.


	6. The discarded innocents

Clara called out in a shout:

“Doctor!”

The Doctor stopped, his back to her. He placed the hands on his waist, putting away, with this gesture, the coat’s flaps. He stood there, his legs spread and elbows sticking out. She noticed the Doctor sighed deeply, by the movement his shoulders made. They were in the carpeted hallway, lit by tall lamps. They could hear the crowd howling, furious and demanding. Clara hugged her own arms because she felt a sudden cold. A thrill of fear and horror.

There was something happening there, indeed – Joe Hahn, Linkin Park’s DJ, was infected with a rare green substance that spooked the Doctor, a Timelord with more than two thousand years, who was used to travel all the corners of the universe, who spun through several eras and who had seen countless marvels, unknown and amazing to any human being.

And if the Doctor was spooked, that was an extraordinary challenge.

Another fundamental fact was that everything was happening on Earth. The planet was, once again, under a threat that clearly looked like alien – because nothing in this world could steal the Doctor’s cold blood.

“Doctor…”

Clara approached him slowly, stopping just a few steps behind. She didn’t go around him; she didn’t face him.

“We cannot leave them Doctor”, she begged, her voice trembling.

“The European Championship football game is about to start. I will be cheering for Spain. You saw the TARDIS, it’s all decorated properly and I don’t deny that I’m supporting Spain. I know the final result of this game and that might be considered as cheating, but the emotion of witnessing the moment… That I can have! Even if I already know who is going to win, tonight.”

“Doctor, we have an emergency here. You can’t be thinking about a football game!”

“Something simpler… a football game. A victory.”

“And, apparently, you already know the result. Doctor! I’m talking to you. Could you please look at me? Thank you very much.”

The Doctor obeyed and looked at her. He kept his posture, though, hands in his waist, elbows sticking out, legs spread. His blue eyes were clouded by an unprecedented shadow. Before she could say anything, he said:

“Clara, I told you before. I can’t do nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.” She poked a finger in his chest. “And I don’t believe you want to trade what we have here in Milton Keynes for a football game, however epic it might be. And I’m not talking about a musical show. I’m talking about what we _really_ have in Milton Keynes. A threat we need to solve, involving the band that’s about to perform on _that_ musical show. You’ve been having that strange feeling since you arrived here. All your Timelord body fibres have been vibrating with the mystery that’s hiding in here, and we just found out it’s the same thing that is taking over Joe Hahn.”

“Joe Hahn?”

“It’s the name of the boy paralyzed in the centre of the dressing room with that disgusting green helmet.”

“Oh… Joe Hahn… right…”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“So, it makes absolutely no sense that you leave”, Clara continued. “You might not know, in this exact moment, how to solve what is going on, but we will find out a solution. Together. I’ll help you. I’m your companion! That’s what a companion is for.”

“I already told you, I can’t do nothing”, the Doctor insisted, unpleasantly.

“I don’t believe you!”

“Why do you want to save them? The angry kids? They are all doomed! It started with… with… with the one who has the disgusting green helmet and it will spread to the others. It’s just a matter of time. And opportunity.”

“And then it’ll spread to everyone who is with them. It will infect Cammy, the big man called Tom, the security guards. Then it will reach the thousands who are here to watch Linkin Park perform. After the show, all those people will return to their homes and, consequently, the infection will reach their relatives…”

“The epidemic will start here and then it will spread through England, Britain, Europe. The world it will be next.”

Clara snorted.

“ _We_ are here. The TARDIS brought us here to fight this threat. Doctor, we cannot leave all these people and go to a football match as if everything is just fine. It isn’t! We are being cowards! And we are dooming planet Earth. That’s… that’s terrible!”

The Doctor stated:

“You want to save them. Your sole concern is the angry kids.”

“Right now, they are the ones who need our immediate help”, she agreed. “Joe is infected. The others are locked with him, inside that tiny dressing room, and by logic they will be next. They are going to be in a coma too, very soon, wearing that disgusting green helmet.”

“Why?”

“We have to stop the disease, Doctor! It’s not because… What do you mean by that? I don’t have a special interest in them…”

“You’re protecting them.”

“I want to save them. Yes, I want to save them!”, Clara repeated, imperiously. “And we will save Earth afterwards, including those who are in the stadium, thousands of miles away, watching your special football game between Germany and Spain. It seems to me they will be infected as well. All the humans will be infected if we do nothing.”

“You are thinking as a teacher… In the classroom are your pupils… other kids, more or less angry.”

“I _am_ a teacher. It is normal to think as one. And no, Doctor. I’m not thinking as a teacher. I’m thinking as a…”

Clara shut up. The Doctor grimaced.

“You’re thinking as a Doctor.”

“Maybe I am!”. She pointed to the end of the hallway. “They called a doctor and they need a doctor. Not _any_ doctor. They need the only Doctor who can fight that disease. I refuse to let you abandon them and condemn all these innocent people. Joe, Joe’s friends and all the remaining humans.”

“And what do you plan to do, Clara Oswald?”

“I don’t know. I’ll do anything! And if I fail… then I’ll be infected too.”

The Doctor displayed the sonic screwdriver.

“You know what this is. It’s my sonic screwdriver, my main instrument of analysis, verification and probing. It can also be a weapon… intelligent and peaceful. A contradiction, I know, because I hate weapons. It’s a wonderful and multi-layered object. I use it always and it is as precious to me as my TARDIS. It’s called this way because it works with… sound. And that creature made of green slime likes… sound.”

Clara opened her mouth, astonished.

“You figured that out… You figured that crucial fact and you didn’t want to tell me.”

“I wasn’t able to decipher the creature using my sonic screwdriver. And if I can’t use my sonic screwdriver, I’m with my hands tied, I’m blind and deaf. I’m in a dark room… with no direction and with no solution! Do you understand now?” He added in a whisper, more for himself: “I don’t expect you to understand, really.”

A small silence fell. The festival crowd was roaring and screaming.

“Well… that’s a start, isn’t it?” Clara said.

“What’s a start?”

“Knowing the creature that attacked Joe likes sound.”

She grabbed his coat sleeve and pulled him back to the dressing room.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“We are going back and we are going to save Humanity, Doctor!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is back and we have to thank Clara Oswald for that!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> A valuable lesson.


	7. A valuable lesson

The way to the dressing room was short, and Clara took the opportunity to make a brief summary of the situation, with the data they had so far, like a teacher would do at the beginning of the class – a summary of the last lesson, a summary of what was going to be lectured on that lesson.

Joe Hahn, from the American band Linkin Park, had been attacked by a creature, most probably an alien parasite, that liked sound, because it reacted positively to the vibrations of the sonic screwdriver. The analysis was interrupted, because the readings showed the parasite would increase in danger if the sonic screwdriver remained on.

Clara and the Doctor stopped, once more, by the dressing room door.

“If you failed to complete the verification of the creature that’s feeding on Joe Hahn, how do you know it’s such a big threat to the world? Something that will infect everybody so hopelessly?” she asked curious, after summarizing what was happening.

He answered:

“I was able to realize, during the first vibrations of my sonic screwdriver, that it’s an organism out of the Earth and it is terribly hungry. Therefore, I turned off my sonic immediately, but, in the meantime, I got same data. Scarce and quite important, these are the only facts we have. Sound is the primary element in this case. Aren’t Linkin Park musicians? Don’t they do a lot of noise when they play their shows? The creature arrived on this planet and must have traced an itinerary that led it to the location on Earth with the biggest noise concentration. The band’s music and its loud crowd. A feast for it to develop more quickly and procced with its invasion. That is the short dissertation I could compile with the information collected.”

“So, we are facing… a sound thief?”

“Exactly, Clara! Exactly!” the Doctor nodded, enthusiastically. “We are facing a sound thief. I never encountered such a creature in my travels through the universe. It’s also a novelty to me. I have no idea what to do next.”

“Well, it seems to me that you are now more committed to figure it out.”

Clara raised her arm to knock on the door.

“Why are you saying that?”, the Doctor asked.

“Look at you. All that happiness and excitement. That’s a committed Timelord.”

“Clara…”

“Doctor, let’s follow my instinct on this matter, shall we? If it becomes too dangerous, we’ll think of another solution. Please. Do it for me.”

“Unfortunately, you leave me no other choice.”

Clara knocked on the door. They said they were back. The Doctor wanted to see the patient again. After a few seconds of tension, the door opened and she and the Doctor re-entered the dressing room.

The scenario remained the same. Joe with the green slime on his head, reactionless, stationed on the wrinkled rug, Chester in a corner biting his nails, Dave besides him, Brad with his arms crossed, Rob with the hands is his pockets and Mike mortified. He said:

“You just said there was nothing you could do here… what has changed?”

“We’ve been debating, the Doctor and I”, Clara clarified, looking briefly to the Doctor. “We’ve been exchanging points of view, verifying… uh, remembering similar cases that could be used as an initial procedure to find out… uh, what’s going on. That’s it. We made an analogy with other cases and we were able to define a course of action that will make this intervention successful.”

“You don’t seem certain of what you’re saying”, Dave said, suspiciously.

“Well, this is a totally unprecedent case in the Doctor’s long career.”

“That’s not good… isn’t it?”, Brad asked.

“It’s your best chance, believe me”, Clara answered. “It’s _our_ best chance.”

The Doctor already had the sonic screwdriver in his hand. He looked at his companion and she nodded, urging him to proceed. He turned it on and immediately a huge bubble started to emerge from the viscosity covering the DJ’s head. Chester screamed. He jumped forward and pointed an accusing finger:

“He’s making that green thing react with that strange device he’s holding! He’d better stop what he’s doing. That will make Joe sicker!”

“Chester… the doctor is helping us”, Dave explained, turning to the vocalist.

Clara bit her lip.

“Doctor…”

“The parasite is, in fact, reacting. Positively. It’s eating, it’s…”

“It’s a parasite?”, Rob said, taking a step back.

“But you are also getting a reading, right?”

“Right, Clara Oswald. But it’s not easy.”

“Besides eating, what else is the parasite doing?”, Brad asked.

Two more bubbles appeared, throbbing and growing. One of the DJ’s eyes was getting covered. Chester jumped again, but Dave intercepted him and locked him up in his arms.

“Chazy, relax!”

“What’s happening? Fuck, let go of me, Phoenix! Joe, Joe! Wake up, Joe!”

The Doctor waved an arm and asked:

“Please, don’t come closer!”

“What’s the parasite doing?”, Brad insisted, raising his voice.

“It’s developing”, the Doctor said. “And I’m starting to communicate with it.”

“What?!! Shut the fuck up!”, Chester hollered. “Shut that big mouth!”. He turned to his bandmates, hectic. “Don’t’ let him do that to Joe! That green thing is swallowing him. Can’t you see? Can’t you see what’s happening? That damn physician is doing an experiment with our friend. That’s why he came back. He doesn’t know what that green stuff is, but he wants to find out, and win a Nobel prize, and become famous. It’s just an experiment. A fucking experiment!!”

He said that last world in a hoarse, desperate scream. The Doctor turned the sonic screwdriver to the vocalist.

“Hey! Don’t point that thing at me! Let go of me, Phoenix! Let go!”, Chester yelled, trapped inside Dave’s strong arms. His feet were skidding on the floor. “I’m not the enemy. He is! He is! That imposter physician who dresses like a magician. Rob is right! He is a magician, not a proper doctor. Let go of me!”

“Chazy, relax!”

“What’s that instrument the physician is using?”, Rob asked, remaining the calmest of the boys. Joe didn’t count.

“It’s the sonic screwdriver”, Clara answered. “And he is not a physician, he is the Doctor!”

“ _The_ Doctor?”

“Doctor… doctor who?”, Mike asked, suspiciously, wrinkling his eyebrow.

“Precisely”, she confirmed.

“Precisely what?”, Brad said.

Rob shrugged, confused, as baffled as the others. Chester was screaming, the blood rushing to his head, his veins standing out in the neck.

“Are you sure this was the doctor you called?”, the guitarist asked.

“I called for a doctor. I wasn’t specific about it, because I couldn’t explain what’s wrong with Joe”, Mike answered, nervously. “Hey, doctor! Doctor! What’s going on?”

“Shut up, Chester! Please, he’s helping us”, Dave insisted.

Chester roared and obeyed. He gasped, holding up his tears. He was now scared and anxious.

“No, don’t shup up!”, the Doctor demanded, turning the sonic screwdriver back to the DJ. Its characteristic sound vibrated in the brief silence.

Chester stepped back, frightened, releasing himself from Dave.

“Don’t shup up. Scream as you were screaming.”

“What?”

“You heard the doctor… Scream, Chester!”, Brad asked.

Mike looked from the doctor to his friend, completely puzzled.

“Now you want him to sing?”

“I don’t want him to sing. I want him to scream”, the Timelord explained, urgently. “I was catching a very interesting reading. The first interesting reading!”

“I’m not gonna sing to that… to that…”

“Chester”, Clara begged. “Chester, please, do what the Doctor is asking you to do. Scream.”

“I’m not gonna do anything. You hear me?”

“Chester!”

“What the fuck, Mike!!”

“Scream, lad. Come on, I’m waiting!”, the Doctor asked, taking a step forward, whit the sonic screwdriver up and tense.

Chester grabbed his head, pricking his elbows. His lips trembled with fear, anger and indecision.

“Mike is a singer too”, Rob informed, pointing his thumb to the Japanese.

“I want his voice. I want the vibrating waves that he can produce with his vocal cords and his diaphragm. Come on, lad! This is important… It’s a matter of life and death. You want to help your friend and right now you’re the only one who can do it. The parasite loves my sonic screwdriver, but it hates your screams.”

“Joe’s life is in danger?”, Brad asked, freaking out.

“Joe’s life is in danger”, Mike said. “Scream to the doctor, Chester!”

“Don’t’ you corner me. I don’t like it!”

“We know that, buddy”, Dave said, trying to grab Chester with an arm, but he dodged it, jumping aside. “But, please, just do what the Doctor is asking you to do. Please! For Joe’s sake!”

Chester screamed for twenty seconds, uninterrupted.

And, suddenly, the green slime shrank and detached itself from Joe, falling heavy and inert on the scorched rug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chester's screams are legendary! But it will be enough to fight this strange parasite?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The danger continues.


	8. The danger continues

“Don’t touch that”, the Doctor yelled stretching an arm.

Chester’s breathing was irregular and he was clenching his teeth, angry because he was forced to scream. He was also sweaty and blushing. Dave put an arm around his shoulders. This time, the vocalist didn’t run away from him and accepted the protection.

“Does this mean Joe is cured?”, Rob asked, cautiously.

“Who’s Joe?”

“Joe is… he is the patient, Doctor!”, Clara explained, forcing a smile.

“Ah, Joe!”. It was if the Doctor was hearing The DJ’s name for the first time. His thick grey eyebrows wrinkled and he stated, very seriously: “No, Joe is not cured yet. The infection was only stopped and delayed. If the parasite’s secretion extended, I would no longer be able to reverse the process. He remains with the infectious agent inside him. As I could verify, he wasn’t attacked by the head. The head is only a crucial centre to obtain dominion over the host, where the most important organ of the human body is located. The brain. The parasite entered your friend through another less obvious place.”

“That green thing… it’s the parasite’s secretion?”, Mike asked.

Brad frowned and took a subtle step back. Rob looked at him, in a disapproving mode.

“Affirmative. The parasite entered your friend’s bloodstream…”

“Joe’s bloodstream”, Dave corrected.

“Yes, Joe’s”, the Doctor accepted, annoyed. “It found the way to the brain and started to develop into that green matter that was dominating him until complete obliteration. Luckily, I was able to find a way to stop the deadly development in time. And thanks to your nervous friend’s lack of control.”

“Hey!”, Chester protested.

“What about Joe?”, Rob insisted. “If he isn’t cured…”

“He still has the parasite inside him, as the physician said”, Brad explained, unsure of what he was saying, looking around.

“I’m not a physician, I am the Doctor!”

“Ok, right, got it. We have to go and perform in the festival… Doctor”, Brad said. “If Joe isn’t cured, we can’t go on stage.”

“No, you can’t. The parasite is still inside him. The infection was merely stopped. The parasite will realize that it’s being fought and it will create a new secretion.”

“This crisis… it will repeat itself?”, Mike asked, worriedly.

“The parasite only survives spreading to new hosts. As I said, the parasite is _still_ inside him. Your friend Joe was the first. You will be next. It was what the green matter was doing. It entered your friend Joe, it would develop, it would enter you and it would continue his happy way until it could enter all humans of this planet and consume them.”

“What do you suggest we do next, Doctor?”, Clara asked. “This is not over… and we still don’t know what this… parasite is. We know how it works; we also know it’s related to sound. Sound feeds him and suffocates him. But we need to find more about it to fight it, to eliminate it and to prevent the disease from spreading on Earth.”

“We have to go to the TARDIS. And we need to take this thing with us.”

“What _thing_?”, Mike asked again, suspiciously.

“Joe and the deactivated green matter.”

“Hey! Joe isn’t a _thing_!”, Chester said, disgusted, and tried to escape Dave’s hug, but he pulled him and kept him restrained.

“Right now, your friend Joe is a _thing_ ”, the Doctor replied, upset. “In case you didn’t notice, your friend Joe doesn’t respond to outside stimulation.”

“So, he’s really in a coma…”, Rob muttered.

“And if you want to save him, you will do as I say.”

“We go where Joe goes!”, Mike declared, evoking his leadership.

The Doctor faced him scandalized.

“Are you going with me to the TARDIS?!”

“I don’t know what that is”, the Japanese replied. “But you bet I’m going with you wherever you’ll take Joe. We are all going! We are a group and no one separate us.”

“And we have to know when can we go on stage”, Rob added. “When Joe recovers, we have to perform our show. People are waiting for us and we need to do something about it. Either we perform, or we cancel the show. We can’t be in this indecision forever.”

“You are still too worried with that fucking show!”, Chester snapped. “Shut up, Bourdon!”

“Hey, Chaz! Calm down!”, Dave demanded, shaking him. “From now on, you’ll keep your mouth shut, understood? You’re with me and you’ll behave yourself, or I’ll punch you in your forehead to knock you unconscious, and then I’ll force you to behave. Mike is taking care of everything.”

Chester grunted.

Clara said, conciliatory:

“We are all going to the TARDIS. It will be the best decision. We will buy time with the TARDIS, right?”

The Doctor considered that idea and agreed with it. He was not willing to remain there, where he couldn’t do no more, anyway. He needed the help of his beloved spaceship to solve that mystery as soon as possible. He thought he had enough data to hatch a solution. Or, at least, to start some kind of a plan.

He pointed to the green matter and asked for a container to place it inside and to transport it. He warned that nobody could touch the green matter, or they would be infected. Brad came with a big bowl that he had emptied from the chocolates and cookies the festival’s organization had offered them. Mike crouched down and with a pair of drumsticks given by Rob pushed the green matter into the bowl. Dave covered the bowl with the tablecloth, he knotted it and made a bundle that Mike hung in one of the drumsticks. He stretched out his arm, afraid to touch it.

“And how we’re gonna take Joe with us?”, Dave asked.

“First, we need to identify the parasite’s entry point to avoid contact with that area”, the Doctor explained. He approached the DJ and observed him thoroughly. He turned the sonic screwdriver on and a greenish glow appeared on the right index fingernail. “Here! Your friend Joe was infected by touching the parasite with this finger. Cover the hand with a cloth, as you did with the bowl, and there’ll be no problem. Then, someone can carry him.”

Brad received the handkerchief Mike had taken from his pants pocket and tied it around Joe’s hand, extremely careful, to avoid being infected. Rob said to him:

“Don’t worry, Delson. If anything happens to you, we’ll heal you when we’ll heal Joe.”

“I’d rather not to be sick”, the guitarist answered, cleaning the hands in his pants.

“Who’s gonna carry him?”, Chester asked, while biting his fingernails. “He’s heavy as an elephant!”

“Before that…”, Mike stated. He had placed the bundle with the bowl on the rug. “How are we going to leave the dressing room, pass through security, dodge Cammy and Tom, escape from the show we’re supposed to be performing, and go to that TARDIS? And what’s the TARDIS, anyway?”

“Time And Relative Dimension In Space!”, the Doctor said.

“Huh?! The TARDIS is an acronym? And what’s that about time and relative dimension in space? It sounds like sci-fi bullshit to me… I thought we’re going to a medical clinic.”

“You’ll find out very soon, Mike”, Clara intervene. “At the bottom line, the TARDIS is like a medical clinic. He’s right, Doctor. How are we going to _smuggle_ Linkin Park from this dressing room to the TARDIS?”

“To kidnap us…”, considered Dave, curiously.

“It won’t be a kidnapping. We will go as volunteers to accompany Joe”, Brad corrected. Rob nodded.

The Doctor shrugged.

“I don’t know. They can take the same bus we took to come up here, to this hellish place.”

“With the fans?”, Clara asked, astounded. “They will be recognized and a riot will happen.”

“The fans, by now, are all in the amphitheatre waiting for them to perform”, the Doctor diminished, waving a hand. “They are not going to be on the buses. However, I suggest the band to disguise themselves. Wear some weird clothes and keep under covered. Simple!”

“Wait. I’ll settle this”, Mike said. And grabbed his cell phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Surprises and more surprises.


	9. Surprises and more surprises

Cammy was furious because the doctor they had called was taking too long to solve whatever needed to be solved. At first, Mike had to calm her down and explained her that the physician… that the Doctor, he amended when he caught the look of sharp censorship the man showed him, that the Doctor was taking care of everything and that they will play that evening at Milton Keynes, the show would be epic and it would be the best of all the shows included in Projekt Revolution.

After making this and a few more other promises, after reassuring that everything was on track and clarifying the Doctor’s competency, Mike asked the band’s van, with no driver. He tolerated other screaming attack from Cammy, he renewed his confidence in that endeavour, he kept all in secrecy mode and ten minutes after they heard knocking at the door. It was Cammy delivering the van’s keys, parked outside, at the back of the container that was serving as their dressing room. Brad opened the door a crack, he received the keys, he thanked and locked themselves inside again. Dave uncovered a drape, hiding the opposite wall, and there it was a second narrow door. They opened it and they saw the vehicle they asked for.

The Doctor suggested to transport Joe on the rug, adding the fact that being scorched it was another piece of evidence that would help them to fight the parasite, for he was suspicious that the fabric change was due to the contamination. Dave and Rob made a suspended bed out of the rug, with the DJ lying there, and took him to the van’s backseat, where they laid him down.

Mike took the seat at the wheel; he would be driving. Clara sat next to him and the Doctor joined them in the from seat. In the middle seat was Chester, Rob and Brad, who was carrying the bundle where they collected the dormant green matter.

The engine started. The van swung sharply.

“You’ll have to tell me where is the location of the TARDIS, Doctor”, Mike said, rolling softly, bypassing the partitions that established the backstage of the amphitheatre.

“I’ll give you directions, Mike. Go to the main road”, Clara said. “Then, it’s easy”.

“Very well.”

The Doctor was lost in his thoughts. He rested the chin in his arm, elbow on the door. The other four were also silent. Brad had his feet on the seat, knees bent, like a grasshopper. He was avoiding the proximity to the bundle, putted on the van’s floor.

The security guards had been warned that the van was leaving, Cammy had left those indications and they opened the gate that gave access to the road with asking no further questions, or checking its interior. Neither did Mike nodded or engaged a conversation. He had put a cap and pulled the peak over is eyes to avoid being recognized.

“Doctor?”, Clara called.

“I’m trying to remember some detail that could help me to recognize this invader. But until now, it remains a novelty for me”, he admitted, looking at her.

“And the relation with sound? Let’s begin with that fact.”

“Sound!”

“The parasite is related to sound?”, Mike asked.

“Indeed”, the Doctor replied. “We’ll have to remember the properties of the sound to understand the parasite’s reaction from just a while ago. It loved the vibrations of my sonic screwdriver and it hated your friend’s screaming.”

“My name is Chester! We are all friends to you, hey? You’re not my friend, man. I’m sure you’re not my friend!”

“Chester, stop instigating him.”

“Hey, Dave! That nudge hurt me! Why the hell did you nudge me on my ribs, hum?”

“Chester, let the Doctor explain his theory”, Rob asked.

“Yes. I want to hear him too, Chester”, Brad said.

The Doctor looked briefly over his shoulder. Then, he started:

“Well, as you all know, sound has four fundamental properties. Duration, intensity, pitch and timbre. That is, how long does the sound lasts, the amplitude of the sound waves, the frequency of the sound waves, and the purity of the sound. Sound can also be reflected, refracted or diffracted. Any of these properties and characteristics of the sound help our little friend…”

“The parasite is also your _friend_?”, Chester mocked. “Hey, Dave! Cut with those elbows.”

“Don’t interrupt him, Chaz!”

The Doctor took a deep breath and continued:

“Any of these properties and characteristics of the sound help or eliminate the parasite. We must find out which one is it and we’ll do it in the TARDIS. For now, we know it’s a sound thief. The parasite steals sound, effectively. It stores it to grow or when it’s too much it boosts its self-destruction mode.” He turned back pointing at the vocalist. “And you, lad, if you interrupt me again, I’ll put a gag on your mouth! We’ll find someone who can scream as loud as you, and who’s willing to deal with the parasite!”

Chester crossed his arms and looked down at the Doctor.

“Pfff! Good luck, old man, to find someone who can scream like I do.” Then he yelled and jumped. “Shit, Dave! Your elbows are hurting me, man!”

“And what kind of parasite is this one? And how did it end up at Milton Keynes’s amphitheatre?”, Mike asked. “Is it some kind of a fungus that’s normal around here? It affected Joe because he doesn’t have immunity, or something like that… We are Americans, we are not used to European stuff. Sometimes, Rob gets worse with his allergies and Brad complains about his bones.”

“That doesn’t happen only in Europe”, the guitarist amended, hugging his legs. From time to time he watched the bundle, putted at his feet.

“No, Mike”, Clara answered, seriously, and touched him in the arm. The Doctor noticed this gesture. “It’s not a local fungus. It’s an organism… more specific.”

“More specific? What does that mean?”, Dave asked.

“Ah, it must be some tropical crap that shouldn’t be in Europe”, Rob said. “That’s it, for sure. A parasite fungus that likes sound.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?”, Mike asked. “I’m sorry, honey, but I think we weren’t formally introduced. Could you tell us your name? We only know you are the Doctor’s assistant. We don’t even know the Doctor’s name. Could you please tell us your names? Thank you very much.”

“We are all _friends_ here. Who needs names if we are all friends? Fuck, Dave! I’ll punch you if you don’t’ stop that.”

“Chaz, cut the jokes”, the bassist protested.

“My name is Oswald. Clara Oswald.”

“Nice to meet you, Clara.” Mike and Clara shook hands. The Doctor frowned. “And you, sir… and you, Doctor?”

“Forget the formalities, Mike! After all, we all are…”

“Shut up, Chester!”, Brad asked.

“I am the Doctor.”

“Right… the Doctor.”

Clara moved her hands, hectic.

“It’s here, Mike. We arrived!”

The Japanese hit the brake pedal and the van stopped in the middle of the road with a huge bump. Inside, they all protested and groaned. He looked everywhere and all he could see was a typical street in an English residential neighbourhood, but he didn’t want to ask anything that it might sound like he was sabotaging the Doctor. Chester’s crazy remarks were enough.

The Doctor and Clara stepped out of the van. They were followed by the middle seat passengers. It was again Brad’s turn to carry the bundle, Chester started to bite his fingernails. Dave and Rob pulled the rug out from the back seat and held Joe in their arms. The DJ was still asleep and showing no signs of any recovery.

After he got out, Mike locked the van, using the remote control attached to the key. He joined the others. He put the hands on his waist and he looked everywhere once more. It was a quiet, anonymous street. The Doctor walked towards to a blue telephone box.

“Come on, come on! Don’t waste time!”, he called them, impatiently, waving.

“Come on, follow me”, Clara asked.

Chester said:

“Go where? Where is this clinic?”

Dave snorted, his face flushing.

“I’m going after the Doctor. Joe had gained weight again. He’s too heavy!”

Rob agreed, snorting too.

“It’s true. It’s like we’re carrying a mastodon. I’m in a good physical shape, I usually use my arms intensively to play drums, but it’s being hard for me to carry Joe. Damn! This guy should take better care of his body! This is not healthy.”

Mike pushed Chester.

“Come on and shut up.”

“Are you angry with me too, Mike?”

“And you are angry with everybody.”

“Not with everybody. Just with the old man.”

Brad was hopping after Clara, trying to keep the bundle away from him.

The Doctor opened the blue telephone box door and disappeared inside. Clara grabbed the door ajar and made a sign for them to follow her. Brad didn’t even blink and entered; he wanted to discard the dangerous bundle quickly.

“What the fuck is this?!”, Chester questioned.

He received another push from Mike.

“Go!”

“Go where? So, the old man’s clinic is inside this blue box?”

“Brad went inside. Go!”

“Eight people inside that box… we won’t fit all in there.”

Mike went ahead and pulled Chester by his sleeve. The two entered the box. Then it was Dave and Rob’s turn, carrying Joe fainted on the rug. As soon as the two passed through the box entrance, they cried out in amazement, opened their hands and the DJ fell on the floor with a dry thump.

Chester repeated, stammering:

“What… the fuck… is… this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are now entering the TARDIS...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Another place, another dimension


	10. Another place, another dimension

The five men were overwhelmed by the vision presented to them, as soon as they passed through the blue telephone box door. They were unable to blink, to move their arms or their feet, to conjure up any thoughts that would make them speak a decent word.

Clara closed the door behind them and they all jumped at the same time.

“Welcome to the TARDIS”, she announced and she would have said it with a happier mood if they weren’t in the middle of a crisis.

“What is this place?”, Mike asked, staggered.

“It’s bigger… it’s bigger…”, Dave stammered.

“On the inside”, Rob added.

“This is completely mind-blowing!”, Brad exclaimed, still holding the drumsticks with the bundle hanging from them.

“This is a spaceship”, Chester shouted.

The Doctor said, pointing up:

“That is correct! We are inside a spaceship. _My_ spaceship. This is the TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimension In Space. She is quite susceptible, even more than I am. So, behave yourselves or you will regret to have spoken more than you should. Especially you, little lad!” And he pointed his finger at Chester.

The interior of the blue telephone box lit up and its entire console was vibrating with the Doctor’s return. Monitors, levers, switches, sounds and clicks, the energy throbbing through the sophisticated mechanism that ornamented the centre of the vast main room, the top of the column decorated with rotating symbols. Mike, Chester, Dave, Rob and Brad were contemplating, for the first time, the wonderful dimensional technology from Gallifrey and they were absolutely haunted.

Brad looked back.

“Hey! Did you drop Joe?”

Rob showed his hands.

“It was unintentionally, man. I was spooked with I saw inside here.” He turned to Clara, touched her arm. “What will happen if we go outside?”

“It’s going to be the same blue telephone box parked on the sidewalk. Yes, my dear boys, you are not hallucinating. It’s bigger on the inside, indeed. Now it’s strange, but you would get used to that very quickly.”

Chester shook Mike.

“Fuck, this parasite that attacked Joe can only be… a thing out of this world.”

“What do you mean, Chester?”, Mike said, his voice slurred. He had his eyes fixed on the huge rotating gear that connected the console to the ceiling, enchanted by its strange drawings. “Out of this world?”

“An alien thing, man!”

“An alien thing?!”. Brad dropped the bundle that fell heavily on the metal floor. “Then, we are all infected by now! A simple cloth won’t contain an extra-terrestrial parasite!”

“You friend is right”, the Doctor agreed. He was already manoeuvring some of the console’s levers, activating two monitors simultaneously. He withdrew the sonic screwdriver from his coat’s pocket and inserted it into a hole that lit a profusion of vertical lights on the other side of the glass tower where circuits and plasma were passing by. “Most likely you are all infected. But you have equally probabilities of being healthy. Let’s find out, in a first analysis. Could you do me a favour and take your friend to one of the TARDIS’s rooms? Clara will show you the way. I don’t want him spreading the disease on my floor. You could all end up infected and my problems would triple.”

Rob and Dave grabbed the ends of the rug with great effort, transporting Joe who was heavier than a mastodon, and they followed Clara who descended a metal stairs and led them through to a door. Brad and Chester stayed together, comforting each other, looking around to check every corner of that weird place. Mike stayed too.

“Well, you… Doctor, you are an... alien too”, he said, approaching cautiously. He tried not to ask the question, but all his doubts and even all his fears were imbedded in that statement. He put the hands in his pant pockets.

“That’s correct! I am an alien.” The Doctor raised his arms, made a little playful dance on tiptoes. “Oh, surprise, surprise! I’m not green and I don’t have flexible antennae on my forehead. I've just changed your idea of how an alien entity looks like. I’ve destroyed a part of your youth… and I don’t care.”

“Actually, you didn’t…”

“I know green aliens with flexible antennae on their foreheads, but I don’t think you want to travel to their planet, because you are more worried with your friend.”

“If the TARDIS is a spaceship… it can travel.”

“Yes, she can, and she does! She travels through space, and through time. You can go with the TARDIS anywhere, and to any period in time.”

“Really?!”, Brad exclaimed. “That’s so cool!”

“Any time? It can go to the past?”, Mike asked.

The Doctor nodded.

“So, right now… in this very moment, by being here… we are not late for the show. We can travel back in time and gain all those minutes that happened. And the TARDIS will also find out what attacked Joe…”

“She just found out.” The Doctor turned a monitor, attached to the console by a movable metallic arm. “Como closer. You seem to be the smartest one of your group.”

“Hey!”

“Shush, Chester… Don’t offend him…”, Brad suggested, lowering his voice. “If he’s an alien, he may have special powers and we don’t wanna see an angry alien.”

“I’m not afraid of him, Delson!”

“My name is Mike”, the Japanese said, imagining that the Doctor had some difficulty, or even reluctancy, in learning their names.

“Right. Mike. The pattern obtained by my sonic screwdriver confirms that whatever infected your friend is in fact an alien creature that is settling on Earth to colonize the planet and that needs sound to its development. I didn’t gather much data, but the one I got is enough and my dear TARDIS likes to work on the edge… nice girl! I also love working on the edge. This is the case, today.”

“An alien creature settling on Earth… that’s an invasion in my dictionary.”

“Oh, and in mine too!”

“And what else did the TARDIS tell you, Doctor?”, Mike insisted.

“The creature’s development is similar to a pathogenic fungus that attacks insects and exists on Earth, more precisely attacks ants that inhabit the ecosystems of tropical forests. _Ophiocordyceps unilateralis_. The fungus settles on the ant and completely dominates it, controlling it, removing its free will. It then leads the ant to a humid place where it hatches, kills the host and grows, moving on to the next ant. During this reproduction, the fungus develops very powerful antibacterial agents and it becomes increasingly hard to fight due to this biological armour.”

“Are you talking about the Earth’s fungus or de alien invader?”

“They are similar and they operate the same way, lad. I’m giving you the Earth’s fungus as an example so you can understand what we are dealing with.”

“Mike… my name’s Mike.”

“Yes… Mike. Then we have sound. Now begins the differences that interest us. The alien creature nourishes itself not only with its host’s cells, but also with sound, and it needs sound to develop more quickly. If it receives a sound overdose, at the right frequency, it stays dormant, but not entirely dead. It takes advantage of this state of latency to reconfigure its DNA in order to absorb the new frequency that will strengthen it, instead of weakening it. Our alien creature learns! And it does it rapidly. That’s what happened with the matter that jumped out of your friend’s head and that’s inside that bowl.”

“Joe’s head.”

“Yes, Joe’s head. We haven’t finished with the creature; it is simply anesthetized. Right now, it continues to develop. It’s creating extensions of itself to proceed with the primary directive implanted in its genetic code. To reproduce itself in the environment where it was introduced, to dominate all creatures that are different and to create mutations to better steal the sound essential to the process. In short, a parasite. A parasitic fungus.”

“Is Joe the first host?”

“Yes. Joe is the first host.”

Chester commented, scared:

“Shit, Joe is fucked…”

“Chester, will you stop swearing?”, Brad asked. “Yes. Joe is in a pickle situation. And we are too, because we’ve been with him all the time. How can we know if we’re infected or not, Doctor?”

The Doctor removed the sonic screwdriver from the terminal where it was connected. He pointed it to every one of them, starting with Mike and ending with Chester.

“You are all safe. Relax.”

Dave and Rob arrived with Clara.

“Joe is still sound asleep”, Dave told them. “So… what have we got?”

Mike was livid and swallowed hard.

“We’re doomed, Phoenix!”, Chester said, dramatically.

Clara and the Doctor looked at each other. There was too much apprehension on the Timelord’s face, she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now they know with what they are dealing...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Time out.


	11. Time out

The Doctor explained briefly what was happening for Clara to hear it and for everyone to be aware of the threat they were facing. A parasitic fungus from outer space intended to invade Earth, using humans as a vehicle that, after being used, would be discarded. In other others, once fully nourished, the fungi would kill the humans who had hosted them. There was also the fundamental detail that the development of the creature processed through the absorption of sound waves.

Joe Hahn, the disc jockey for the American band Linkin Park, was the first infected human.

Mike asked:

“The fungus appeared here on Earth? Or it was… _planted_?”

“We still need to find that out, but I don’t think is important, in this moment, lad”, the Doctor answered.

“Mike… my name’s Mike”, he sighed, disappointed.

“What we need to do is to discover an effective way to eliminate the parasite. To save your friend and to save Earth.”

“My screaming is not enough”, Chester recalled.

“No. In a short while, after reconfiguring its cells, the parasite will love your screams and it will grow even more”, Mike explained. “The damn bug learns, Chaz. We don’t want it to develop, we want to… eliminate it.”

“That’s what the Doctor said”, Brad completed. “The parasite likes sound. It got surprised first with your screaming, but now that it knows them, it’ll want more. If you scream to Joe, he’ll get sicker.”

“Ah…”

“And, what about Joe?”, Rob asked, pointing over his shoulder with the thumb.

“He’s safe. The TARDIS will take care of him”, the Doctor informed. He addressed Brad. “Bring me the bowl, lad. Dump it inside here.” He opened a container pulling a lever.

“I have to touch that? Again?”. The guitarist was disgusted.

“I’ll take the bowl, don’t worry”, Dave volunteered.

The bassist picked up the bundle, untied and removed the handkerchief that was covering the bowl and approached it to the console. He turned it inside the dark hatch the Doctor locked immediately, pushing the same lever. The console vibrated; more lights went up. Clara hugged herself. A humming sound filled the silence.

“What’s that supposed to mean… the TARDIS takes care of him?”, the drummer insisted.

“It means the TARDIS won’t let the infection spread any more while he’s sleeping inside here”, Clara explained. “Joe is safe until we find out a way to defeat the parasitic fungus, expel it from his body and also from Earth.”

“Oh… and then we can go and play…”

“You’re still too worried about that show”, Chester said, angrily.

“That’s how I am, man. I’m very responsible.”

“And we’re not?”, the vocalist insisted, raising his voice.

“Calm down, Chaz”, Brad asked, hugging him by the shoulders. “We have a time machine, Rob. The TARDIS is a time machine, the Doctor told us. Therefore, we are going on stage in time for our show, and nobody will notice any delay. We’ll dodge Cammy too.”

“Hum… interesting… we’re inside a time machine?”, Rob considered. “This telephone booth is a prodigy!”

Mike asked, looking around, observing every corner:

“Why there are so many yellow and red flags in here? And banners and ribbons and even balloons? Were you preparing a party?”

“Actually… we are in Milton Keynes to see you play and sing in your evening show”, Clara said with a smile. “We travelled with the TARDIS to this day with that purpose. I asked to come to June, in the year 2008. We came… we came from the future…”

“From the future! Wow! From what future?”, Chester asked, astonished.

“A future not very far”, Clara told widening her smile. “From a few years ahead…”

“That’s so cool, Clara.”

“Thank you, Chester.”

“The red and yellow decoration is due to the European Championship final match, happening today, between Germany and Spain”, Dave explained, because he was always very interested in all sort of sports, including football which they knew as soccer. “I mean, _today_ is the day where we are also going to play in Milton Keynes. As we are inside a time machine, I find it difficult to define _today_ , you know what I mean? Don’t you agree with me? Well… the Doctor is cheering for Spain.”

“I would never cheer for Germany”, the Doctor said pressing buttons, while he was observing the monitors in front of him. He was waiting the analysis of the inert viscous matter inserted in the console.

“Because you’re English?”, the vocalist asked.

“He’s an alien… he isn’t English”, Brad said. “In fact, he sounds Scottish to me…”

“It’s not the same thing?”

“Chester!”

“Being a Timelord I’d never cheer for Germany. Don’t you have memory? Clara, your kids need some History lessons. And you say they write songs with political messages.”

“You know our work…”, Mike hesitated.

“Clara knows your work. It was her who asked me to travel to this day in June, 2008, dedicated to Saint Peter, a Catholic saint. I thought it was to watch the most important football match of the decade, between Germany and Spain… but no. When we arrived, I was surprised by the village of Milton Keynes and by a Rock show!”

“Doctor! I thought that issue was clarified!”, she said, annoyed.

“It works that way? We choose where we wanna go, and we go?”, Brad asked, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“Basically, yes… the Doctor invites me for a walk and I choose the destination”, Clara revealed. “To the past, to the future, on Earth or outside the Solar System.”

“Wow!”, Chester exclaimed, increasing his astonishment level to a youthful enthusiasm. “Can I choose too?”

“If you behave yourself and do what I say”, the Doctor said, sharply. “Which I doubt it, because I already realized you’re the most fickle and rebellious of the group.”

Chester grunted. Brad shook him, as he was still holding him by his shoulders and with that gesture asked him not to reply. It was obvious that Chester and the Doctor were incompatible, and the feeling of disgust was mutual.

“There’s a guitar over there!”, Mike said. He had continued to scrutinize the TARDIS’s interior.

Clara looked at the Doctor and he didn’t make a sign indicating that he had mind with the discovery. He was still focused on the code lines and beeps returned by the monitors. Therefore, she revealed:

“The Doctor enjoys music very much and he plays the guitar.”

“Really?”, Chester sneered.

Brad rolled his eyes.

“What kind of music do you play?”

“All kind of music, Mike. It’s an electric guitar, so you can imagine what my favourite genre is.”

The Japanese smiled, pleased that the Doctor remembered his name. He smiled at his friends, swung the weight on his heels, clapped his hands together.

“What’s that face?”, the vocalist asked, unpleasantly. “Are you thinking of inviting him to play with us tonight?”

Mike withered.

“Why not, Chaz? The Doctor are going to save Joe, and then we can politely ask him…”

Chester frowned, as if he had eaten sour food.

“We’re gonna play with Jay-Z!”, Mike added.

“I know Jay-Z! I don’t’ know this dude from nowhere…”

“That would be epic! To play with an alien Doctor!”, Brad exclaimed. “What do you think, Rob?”

“Hum-hum. It would be epic!”

“What about you, Dave? Do you also agree with this nonsense?”

“Come on, Chaz… and why not? Don’t you tell me you’re jealous…”, the bassist pointed out, concealing a smile.

“Jealous of what?”

Clara laughed. Chester was effectively jealous of the attention Mike was willing to pay to the Doctor and, above all, he didn’t want to share his friends, the stage and the limelight with someone he clearly antagonized.

Suddenly, the Doctor moved a lever in a very theatrical gesture. He raised his arm and yelled:

“It’s done! Get ready!”

“Ready for what?!”, Dave said. “What’s done?!”

“Little lad, didn’t you want to travel?”, the Doctor continued, looking directly at Chester. The others were quite frightened and he laughed, delighted with their shattered nerves, wavering between fear and curiosity. He asked, triumphantly: “Brace yourselves, because we are traveling… and we are going to leave Earth!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where are they travelling to?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Through the stars, far away.


	12. Through the stars, far away

The TARDIS shuddered with a huge shake, knocking everybody down. Except for the Doctor, who was already used to the rough starts of his spaceship when she lifted off and he held on to the console. Except for Clara, who was also used to those flashy travel beginnings of the extraordinary vehicle that, outside, was just an ordinary and anonymous blue telephone box, and grabbed a metal tube of the guardrail surrounding the centre of the room.

“Fuck”, Chester protested. “My ass hit the floor!”

“Where are we going?”, Rob asked.

“I think I bit my tongue…”, Dave murmured.

“Everyone is OK?”, Mike asked.

“I am!”, Brad answered. “What about Joe?”

“Joe is better than us. He’s on a bed”, Dave said.

“He’s infected with a fungus, Phoenix”, Chester said, angrily. “A parasitic fungus from outer space that’s eating him and that’s gonna eat us next, that will invade Earth and will bring the fucking apocalypse. How can he be better than us?”

“This whole situation is leaving you too upset. You have to drink some tea, man. Calm yourself down. Our enemy is the fungus. It’s not the Doctor, or us.”

“Screw you, Phoenix!”

“Chaz! Let’s end this anger phase, will you?”, Mike asked, grabbing his friend’s arm. “That’s a deal, buddy? Let’s concentrate ourselves in what’s important.” He sat down and asked: “Doctor, what’s going on?”

The Doctor was observing the monitors closely, dividing his attention with the commands he was using in an unstoppable frenzy. The room shook, hummed, crackled and snored, as if it was being flogged outside by a terrible windstorm.

“Where are we going?”, Mike insisted.

With a last shudder, making an unbearable steel twitching noise, the commotion subsided and stopped completely. The floor leaned a little and the five men slid down until they were stopped by a bulkhead protecting the steps that, on that area, gave access to the platform where the console stood. Dave got on top of Rob, Brad hit Dave with his back, Mike hit these three and Chester ended up curled with Mike. They groaned in pain.

“Is everyone OK?!”, Mike asked, loudly.

“I didn’t break a rib, so I think I’m alright”, Chester observed.

Brad, Dave and Rob said they were all in one piece and started to disengage from each other to get on their feet.

Clara looked at the Timelord with her big brown eyes.

“Where did the TARDIS take us, Doctor?”, she asked, anxiously.

“To the place where the fungus came from.”

“A planet?”

The Doctor frowned.

“According to my readings… a spaceship in the Eastern quadrant of the Milky Way. Near the Zorban system. A pretty intense war happened here, I recall. The yellow warriors won, but the peace was never consensual and a guerrilla is still occurring here between those warriors and the different factions of the kingdom. It’s just internal affairs. The Zorbanians aren’t a conquering species, searching for new territories. It doesn’t make any sense that they could be interested on Earth”, he declared, intrigued.

“We are in space?”, Brad gasped, frightened and amazed.

“It seems so.”, Dave said.

“Are we… in the _middle_ of space with an English blue telephone booth?”, Rob specified, cautiously.

“Unless this blue box transformed itself into a proper spaceship”, Chester said. “Like the _Transformers_ , uh? Got it?”

“Are we in space, Doctor?”, Mike asked, shocked.

The Doctor came down from the platform in a rush, wielding the sonic screwdriver.

“No, Mike. We are not in space. We are _inside_ a spaceship in the Eastern quadrant of the Milky Way! You’re not paying attention to what I’m talking. I thought you were the smartest of your group.”

“We went… from Milton Keynes, in England… to a spaceship… in the middle of space”, Rob insisted, rolling the index fingers. “With a telephone booth.”

Mike closed his mouth in a line, upset with the reprimand. Chester whispered:

“That’s what you get for giving so much confidence to the old man… did you think he had you in his regard? _Nah_ …”

“Chaz, the _old man_ is our only chance to save Joe and to perform at the show”, Mike replied, annoyed. “If we are _inside_ a spaceship in the Eastern quadrant of the Milky Way…”

Chester laughed, nervously.

“Let’s check out this spaceship, then… Maybe we never left that street. We are all suffocating inside the telephone booth, hallucinating and gasping for air because we don’t fit all inside, and this is just a dream!”

Brad shook his head.

“It would be a very stupid dream. And Joe being infected? That’s a dream too?”

Chester shrugged. He couldn’t follow his own reasoning. Everything was too crazy, far-fetched, incredible and amazing. He wanted to believe. On the other hand, however, his more rational side was trying to find a reasonable explanation.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door, he peeked briefly and then he turned back.

“Clara Oswald, you are coming with me. You’ll stay here to guard your sick friend.”

“No way!”, Mike protested, taking a step forward. “We are going too. How you’re going to trust her for a potentially dangerous mission, when we’re here?”

“Are you saying that is better to send a man than a woman on this potentially dangerous mission?”, Clara questioned, offendedly, and crossed her arms.

“No, Clara. That’s not what I meant. But if there’s danger, we must always protect the women and the children.”

“I never thought you were a sexist, Mike Shinoda!”

“I am making this suggestion with the best intentions”, the Japanese justified, clumsily, waving his hands.

Chester rolled his eyes.

“She is my companion”, the Doctor justified. “She is always by my side and I need her to see what I can’t see. Yes, I trust my life in her hands when we’re on a potentially dangerous mission. It has always been so!”

“It’s no use, Mike”, Brad said and touched his friend shoulder. “Here, we dance to the Doctor’s music.”

“I like you, lad! That’s more like it.”

“His name is Bradford”, Dave said, amusingly.

“Do you think this is funny, Phoenix?”, Chester asked.

“Hilarious!”

The Doctor threw the TARDIS door wide open.

A deep, metallic corridor, immersed in a semi-darkness, stretched in a straight line, ending up in an opaque wall divided in other two corridors, one turning left, the other turning right. The lighting was scarce. There were some projectors near the ceiling shedding a weak light. The temperature was icy, the air was breathable. The oppressive and ominous silence gave the scenario a certain aura of horror.

The Doctor turned the sonic screwdriver on. The tool’s vibration caused a sharp hiss that hurt everyone’s eardrums. Clara, Mike and Chester covered the ears with their hands, Brad moaned, Dave and Rob took a step back.

“Sound”, the Doctor said.

The hissing stopped when he turned off the sonic screwdriver.

“It’s a Zorban ship”, the Timelord added. He turned to them. “By the reading I just made, it’s abandoned. There are no life forms on board. But I also detected a signal block, so _someone_ or _something_ doesn’t want the little secret kept inside here to be uncovered.”

“Are the fungi commanding the ship?”, Mike asked.

“Very unlikely. The fungi won’t have that capacity, even after being fully developed, in a more mature phase. But they come from here, that’s for sure. A colony, a vivarium, a laboratory, somewhere inside this ship is a place where we’ll find the origin of the parasite. We need to explore the ship to find out.”

The Doctor advanced down the corridor, Clara also left the TARDIS.

“This is getting more and more exciting!”, Chester exclaimed with a laugh. He fell silent, abruptly. “Ouch, Shinoda! Now it’s you who are hitting me with the fucking elbows?”

“Shush! We follow the Doctor and comments are not allowed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exploration begins...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Moving forward with determination.


	13. Moving forward with determination

The Doctor warned them, as if they were young schoolboys, not to touch anything. Chester opened his mouth to speak, but Rob pulled him and shut him up. He looked at the drummer, appalled. Even the pacifist Rob Bourdon was restraining him! It was almost outrageous. He sulked and went down the corridor with his head down.

They reached the wall at the end of the corridor and there was nothing to report. They stopped at the intersection of the two passages.

“We have to split up”, Clara suggested.

By the face expression the Doctor made, he didn’t enjoy that idea. Clara explained:

“There are two passages and we are seven people. We can gain time if we make a separate exploration of the site. This spaceship seems abandoned, the danger might be just where the fungi are developing, somewhere, in a specific room. If we be careful and don’t touch anything, there will be no problem.”

“Yes, I agree. We split up in two groups”, Mike agreed. “Me, Chester, The Doctor and Clara are one team. Brad, Rob and Dave, you’re the second team.”

“And how are we going to communicate with each other, if we find anything suspicious? Or how are we going to defend ourselves? We don’t even have a ray gun, like in the movies…”, the guitarist said.

“A ray gun?”. The Doctor was bewildered. “Do you think you are in a science fiction simulation, lad?”.

“Bradford”, Chester grumbled. “His name is Bradford.”

“The Americans do really enjoy their amusement parks and false adrenaline. What do you think is happening here? This a Zorbanian spaceship, a relic from the great war of the heirs! It is not a prop from any cinematographic adventure transformed into cheap entertainment for the working families of America in the weekends!”

“They know that, Doctor!”, Clara alerted, entering the conversation. “Their friend is seriously ill and we are here trying to understand what’s going on, because the TARDIS brought us to this spaceship where all started, apparently. Brad is right, you know? If we are going to separate, we need to have a way to communicate with each other. How can we do it?”

The Doctor sniffed with displeasure.

“We don’t communicate or we don’t separate. You choose!”

A discussion started, with everyone talking at the same time.

Mike stood up with a yell, telling everybody to shut up. And he decided:

“We are going to separate ourselves. We will be two groups, as I said. After an hour, if the searches are unsuccessful, we’ll return here and we go back to the TARDIS. Deal? Dave, you’re the leader of the second group. The Doctor will be the leader of the first group.”

“Why Dave is the leader?”, the guitarist wanted to know, prissy.

“Because he’s the oldest in your group, Brad. And in our group, that status belongs to the Doctor.”

“Very well said, lad. You are still demonstrating you’re the smartest one.”

Chester snarled.

The Doctor withdrew from his coat’s pocket a handful of small and compact yellow tubes. He showed them in his palm.

“Use this, because of the sound. We don’t know what we can stumble on. Any protection is essential.”

“I don’t take medication without the prescription done by… a _proper_ doctor”, Chester opposed.

“With those plugs how are we going to see anything?”, Brad asked, confused.

“You will see, you idiot! You just won’t smell”, Rob explained.

“Ah… OK.”

Mike rolled his eyes. He grabbed two tubes and put them in his ears.

“You have to use them in your ears, man! Why do you want to use them in your eyes or in your nose? Or even swallow them? It’s just pieces of cotton. Did you never see earplugs?!! We used them in our shows when we are watching the support bands! That way we don’t screw up our ears before our performance.”

“This type of earplugs is a novelty for me”, the guitarist justified.

“It must be an English brand.”

“The Doctor is an alien, Rob. He isn’t English”, Brad said.

“He’s Scottish, that’s what you said, Delson”, Chester muttered.

“There is no Scotland in space. Or England, as far as I know”, Mike said.

The guitarist grabbed a pair of earplugs, smiling ashamedly. Dave told him that he shouldn’t find any excuses now about what he had just said, because he just embarrassed himself completely when he exposed his basic ignorance. And other acid and humorous remarks. The others could see he was nervous and that was the way he had to deal with all that. It was the first time they were inside a spaceship, in a typical Hollywood movie scenario and there was fear, curiosity, risk and suspicion. A nightmare come true and all that.

After protecting their ears, after Mike had dismissed Dave, Brad and Rob with a very masculine handshake and wished them good luck with a smack in their back, they split up. Chester asked them to be careful and that they should run if they encounter any danger. Clara smiled and confided to him:

“Run is the best advice you could have given them.”

“Really?... Oh… all right”, Chester agreed.

“We run a lot when we are with the Doctor.”

“That’s not very encouraging, Clara.”

“I know. You’ll get used to it.”

The Doctor and Mike were advancing down the corridor. They were walking faster than the prudence advised, but there was no immediate threat to be seen, and perhaps they should hurry to arrive quickly to some interesting place inside that dark spaceship. The site was revealing itself quite boring.

Chester looked over his shoulder. Due to the low light, he could no longer see his friends, not even their figures. He felt a paralysing dismay and shivered. He looked at Clara beside him. The Doctor and Mike were further ahead, with the first one trotting and leading them. Chester put the arm around her waist.

“Maybe I don’t want to get use to run to save my life… how long have you been hanging with the Doctor?”

Clara smiled at him and Chester noticed she was very beautiful, like a cute doll.

“I know the Doctor for some time”, she answered. “He’s a very special… partner. The days with the Doctor are never the same, and you end up enjoying too much the travels he can offer you with the TARDIS. It becomes… how can I say this? A dependency. You find yourself involved in complicated, risky situations, with decisions taken on the edge that may imply the destruction of everything you love and you know; but in the end you understand that’s how life really is. It’s experiencing the brightness, the darkness, the sadness, the happiness, the full spectre of human emotions. The adrenaline! You actually live. You feel your blood rushing in your veins, you perceive your own smallness, and you understand how ephemeral and extraordinary everything is because you are mortal.”

“Ah, Clara. I have that too! When I sing on stage… I’m living my life at its fullest. I feel incredibly awake and aware of the wonderful gifts we can obtain in this ungrateful world.”

“That was beautiful, Chester.”

“If you wanna call me Chaz…”

“Chaz.”

“Chazy Chaz. It’s my nickname.” He whispered her, whimsical: “It’s just for my friends.”

The Doctor called in a grave tone:

“Clara!”

His voice echoed on the corridor walls. Mike jumped, frightened. Clara moved away from Chester.

“Yes, Doctor”.

“It’s everything _normal_ in the rear?”

“I didn’t realize any suspicious movements. Everything is more than normal. I noticed you’re not using the sonic screwdriver… Is it because oh that high-pitched whistle we heard when we left the TARDIS?”

“Affirmative, Clara. There would be sensors in these corridors that feed on the specific frequency emitted by my sonic screwdriver, that transforms the sound vibrations into food to fatten the fungus. Apparently, it doesn’t work with the frequency of our voices, or we couldn’t be speaking.”

The corridor ended at a closed door. The Doctor put his hands on the door, feeling its consistency, looking for any saliencies or mechanisms that would unlock it. Mike was also exploring the nearby wall the same way. Chester said he didn’t want to touch anything. He had a poor health and he could be infected with some strange bacteria.

“What if you use…”, Clara suggested.

“Yes, I’ll risk it. You’re using the earplugs, anyway.”

The Doctor pointed the sonic screwdriver to the door. The same annoying noise filled the corridor, an uncomfortable and prolonged hiss, but it was worth it. The door opened, sliding upwards.

Automatic lights went up, illuminating the vast room. Clara covered her mouth with both hands. The Doctor chocked. Chester and Mike cried out in astonishment and, by pure instinct, they jumped into each other arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Clara, Chester and Mike just uncovered something...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Exploring.


	14. Exploring

Dave took very seriously his role as expedition leader and he was walking a few steps ahead from Brad and Rob. The guitarist was the most scared of the group. He constantly turned his neck to verify that they weren’t being followed. There, on their own, left to themselves, without the protection of the authoritarian presence of the Doctor with a Scottish accent, without the comfort of Mike Shinoda’s confidence, he felt vulnerable.

“Will you stop that?”, Rob asked.

“What, Bourdon? I don’t want to be surprised by a treacherous attack.”

“A treacherous attack won’t happen, man. Joe was infected because he touched the fungus. Didn’t you see his finger? His green fingernail? He found that disgusting crap somewhere in the backstage, touched it because he was curious, and that’s how he got sick.”

“Are you sure?”

“What Rob is saying makes sense”, Dave agreed. “And this spaceship is abandoned, with no signs of life forms. The Doctor said it. Nothing will attack your back. Relax, Delson.”

“What if the fungi here are more aggressive and can walk by its own means? A crawling slime that doesn’t like outsiders. Like slugs.”

“You’re watching too many movies…”

“Don’t laugh, Bourdon! I mean it! Am I watching too many movies? Are you for real? And what is this shitty mess that it’s happening to us, right now? This is not a _dream_! This is really happening.”

“You’re too tense. You need a massage. Do you want me to give you a massage? I learn some new techniques in that last spiritual retreat I did.”

“Slugs are slow”, Dave said. “If the green slime moves itself it would be like that, so you would be able to dodge the attack easily.” He looked around. “It would help if we had more light…”

“Do you think the green slime can be hiding in the shadows?!”, Brad shrieked. “It is possible! It is possible that the green slime likes darkness. Everything that is venomous walks at night!”

“It would help if there was a hatch or something…”

“What did you want a hatch for?”, Rob asked. “The Doctor said we are in space, and even if we had windows, all we could see… is the night.”

“We would see stars and what else we could see in this area of the Milky Way. I want to know the landscape out there, Rob. Aren’t you curious? Imagine that we could see that planet where the war mentioned by the Doctor happened. It is an alien planet!”

“Yeah… right. And maybe we could have more light inside this ship, because the planet would be orbiting a sun.”

“Yes! We could see a sun different of our own Sun!”

“You are too happy for my taste”, Brad said, angrily.

“Come on, Delson. You have to enjoy what we’ve got here”, Dave justified, smiling, and gave him a friendly punch in the arm.

“Enjoy what? We’re in a dark corridor of a spaceship inhabited by fungi that can kill us. What’s to enjoy? Explain to me…”

“You’re being pessimistic.”

“I’m… I’m being pessimistic, Bourdon?!”

“Hey, cut the fight!”, Dave ordered. “I’m in charge here, and I don’t admit any arguments between my crew members.”

Brad snorted. Rob laughed and saluted his band mate.

“Understood, Commander Farrell!”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. The corridor remained quiet, in an icy, dark and still silence. Brad stopped looking back, sulked with his friend’s mockery. He put the hands on his pants pockets, and was chewing dry. He remained uneasy, but he would no longer show it. He didn’t wish them no harm. If something did happen, he would dive head on to save them, without hesitation, putting himself in danger, but that didn’t stop him from having his survival instinct on and being full of fear. It bothered him that they didn’t realize it, then he understood that they would be as scared as he was. Making fun of his attitude was their way to defend themselves and to continue walking down that corridor, alone and unarmed.

Oh, how he wished he could be with his guitar! He would caress it, he would check the strings made of steel with his fingertips, he would whisper to it another love oath, and then he would go on stage. The first chord emerging as a tidal wave from the amplifiers connected to the powerful sound system. The deafening noise from the crowd spreading out like a mixed tapestry, made of colour and movement. The show would begin and he was free of everything that was tiny. Including fears.

“Don’t you have the impression that the corridor turns around?”

“What do you mean, Phoenix?”, Rob asked.

“We are crossing a circular passage. We came to the corridor to the right; the Doctor, Clara, Mike and Chester went to the corridor to the left. I’m imagining a spaceship like a flying saucer; you know what I mean?”. He joined the fingers forming a sphere with an empty space in the middle. “The main corridor is the axis dividing the two hemispheres. Then, there are two corridors that derive for that main one. My hunch is that we’ll return soon to the place where the blue telephone box is.”

“The TARDIS? At the end of this corridor it will be… the TARDIS?”

“And the second team”, Brad added. “We will also meet the Doctor and the others if the corridors are truly circular and, therefore, connected. So, why are we doing this walk?”

“I don’t know”, Dave replied, slightly confused. “The Doctor said that the origin of the fungus is here, but he also found it strange to came from this particular ship. Do you remember that? He’s feeling the terrain, like us, with a little more experience, though.”

“Do you think the Doctor knows what he’s doing?”, Brad asked.

“Well, he’s an alien and he know all this weird stuff, he has a spaceship and a supercomputer hacked on a telephone booth bigger on the inside. He told us he’s our best chance. I believe in the Doctor”, Rod declared.

“Look!”

Dave’s yell made Brad jump and cling to Rob. He gave it such a boost that the drummer stretched his arms, prepared to carry him, but Brad dodged the embarrassing backing from his friend. He immediately calmed down when he saw Dave pointing out to the TARDIS, thus confirming his peculiar theory. Seeing the telephone booth was a relief and Brad sighed loudly.

He ran to the TARDIS and hugged a corner, repeating that he was more than happy to be back. It was a safe haven, it was a recognizable vision, and he had survived the walk without being infected. Dave peeked the corridor, but no one was approaching. He asked loudly if the others could have been retained, because according to his calculations, and still according to his theory, the two circular passages would be identical and the two teams had to have walked the distance roughly during the same time. He looked at his watch and was surprised that it had stopped.

Rob was pressing a finger on the TARDIS door.

“Did we leave the spaceship open?”

“Hum?”. Dave forgot his watch. “The door is open? I don’t remember to see the Doctor closing it, actually.”

“Did you know this is made of wood?”, Brad said, stroking the corner of the huge box. “We are traveling inside a spaceship made of wood?! This is insane!”

“It brought us here, so the wood must behave well in the vacuum.”

“You always have an explanation for everything, don’t you, Bourdon?”, Brad replied, angrily.

“Except for the spaceship door being open.”

“Well, buddies, it doesn’t matter now. Let’s go inside, it’s safer.”

“And warmer!”, Brad added, rubbing his arms. “I could get the flu because of this.”

“Which will be worse? A flu… or the green fungus?”

“Ah ah. Very funny, Bourdon!”

Dave pushed them ahead of him.

“Yes, let’s go inside! And let’s see how Joe is doing.”

They checked the interior and everything was as they had left it. The central mechanism was oscillating, up and down, in that typical melody that was hum, hiss and modulation, all at the same time. They went down the small metal stairs that gave access to the lower level, they opened the room door where they had left the Korean resting in his artificial sleep.

The bed was empty.

Brad gasped:

“Where is Joe?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... where did Joe go?!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The vivarium.


	15. The vivarium

The room was a large circular chamber, furnished with small square tables supported by very tall silver legs. On top of them were open cubic glass boxes, each with a projector suspended from the ceiling that focused directly over a grid platform, on which rested the alien green fungus, a tiny and dormant disk. The boxes were by the hundreds, lined up in the immense space with little gap between them, forming infinite corridors. The air was warm and the light was intense, highlighting the colour of the parasite in slow evolution.

Clara was still astounded and dumb. The Doctor had rested the hands on his hips and was observing the room closely, between curiosity, victory and amazement. Chester was gripped to Mike, who was as perplexed as Clara. The vocalist gasped:

“Fuck! The fungus that attacked Joe came from here. Man, just look at this! They are by the millions! It must exist a fungus for every Earth inhabitant in here. We’re screwed, really screwed. And if it takes only one fungus to infect a human that will infect other humans… the life in the Universe will be devoured by these damn fungi. Everything is so screwed!”

“We stumble upon the parasite’s vivarium”, Mike said, after clearing his throat.

“Effectively. The fungus is being created and is growing in this room”, the Doctor agreed.

The access to the room was through a small metal staircase with five steps, but none of them took the initiative to advance and enter that awesome and scaring place.

“Your readings from a while ago hadn’t revealed any life forms inside this spaceship”, Mike recalled.

“Hey, well said!”, Chester said, excitedly. “So, Doctor? How do you justify that major _flaw_ in your analysis? Explain that.”

“The fungi here… are they alive?”

“Oh, yes. They are pretty much alive, Mike.”

The Japanese felt a shudder by noticing again that the Doctor continued to remember his name, and he couldn’t define whether that was an advantage, or not.

“They are alive and they are developing. They are still mere embryos, but they are quite deadly and we should avoid contact. Before you ask the next question, I’ll explain it to you.” He threw an arm, the gesture following his observation of the site. “The walls in this room are covered with a special alloy that blocks the signal from my sonic screwdriver. I had encounter something similar before… where was it? I can’t tell exactly, but there was some kind of conflict and a dangerous comet threatening to obliterate one of the belligerent planets.”

“Whoever is maintaining the vivarium is trying to prevent the interference of a Timelord”, Clara managed to say, putting aside her amazement with a determined wink.

“My deduction is it has a connection with sound. The walls in this room are designed to control the sound frequency, with the purpose of avoiding sound that may affect the normal development of the fungus. They are sound thieves, they need sound, but only under the ideal conditions to their genetic code.”

He stretched the arm and connected the sonic screwdriver, projecting it into the room. When the usual humming sound was heard, the lights on top of the boxes went out at the same time and a metal lid appeared, covering the fungi containers. A dim red light came on immediately, indicating a sudden and undesirable change in the vivarium’s atmosphere. And the door they had entered, closed abruptly. Clara screamed and slammed her fists into the door.

“Doctor! We are stuck inside!”

Chester shouted:

“Shit, that wasn’t a good idea!”

“Chaz, mind your language.”

“Mike, don’t correct me when we’re on a crisis.”

“Doctor… we can open the door again, can we?”, Mike asked.

The Doctor turned off the sonic screwdriver. In a few seconds the room returned to its original condition. The boxes were uncovered, the projectors went on and the red light from the alarm was replaced by the blinding light that transformed the vivarium in a vision, literally, from another world, taken from the best illustration of a science fiction story. But the door didn’t open. Clara groaned annoyed, slamming her fists into the thick and compact plate one last time.

“Let go of my arm, Chaz. Your fingernails are hurting me”, Mike complained.

“Oh… Sorry. Now what? What do we do now?”

Clara passed them to follow the Doctor who had decided to go down the infamous five steps. He started to walk down the main corridor between the boxes, observing the fungi.

“No changes, at least visible ones”, he noted. Once in a while he would lean over to narrow the distance between the box and his eyes, improving his verification. “The vivarium does not let unnecessary sound pass through in the growing stage of the fungus.”

“I thought the fungus liked your sonic screwdriver.”

“When it’s growing, it doesn’t…”

“That’s important to know.”

“Maybe, Clara.”

“You are insane!”, Chester exclaimed, wavering his arms. “What are you doing down there? You’re end up infected and we need that vibrating gadget to open the door, and we don’t know how to use it in that master key function! Don’t expose yourselves to unnecessary danger. Hey, Mike! You lost your mind too?!”, he squeaked, seeing the Japanese going down the five steps.

“Come on, Chaz.”

Chester pressed the tip of his nose between the index finger and the thumb, squeezing and closing his nostrils, closing his mouth with equal determination. Before that, he filled the lungs with air, as if he was going to take a deep dive. He followed his friend, trembling with dread for being so close to that many green fungi.

“The door didn’t open, Doctor.”

“I didn’t want it to open.”

“Why? Hum… You didn’t want it to open… or you don’t know how to open it from the inside?”

“Maybe, Clara… Let’s continue the exploration.”

“Maybe? We have a lot of ‘maybes’ here.”

“Maybe I want to be locked inside here to learn more about the fungus and about what is happening. If I opened the door, the boys would run away, you would go after them, and I wouldn’t leave you on your own.”

“Oh…”

Mike pointed out to the end of the passage, where a wall sculpted with spirals could be seen.

“Doctor… what’s that?”

The Doctor followed Mike’s finger and discovered what he did.

“It looks like… it looks like guitars.”

Chester slightly released his nose, and said, very quickly:

“Alien guitars?”

Mike and the Doctor ran to the end of the corridor, with Clara and Chester in their pursuit.

It was, in fact, guitars – of all shapes, colours, forms, sizes and styles. Chester gasped, took a deep breath and allowed himself to breathe normally, because the boxes were now in his back, and according to his judgement they weren’t no longer an immediate danger. Clara observed the rows of guitars glued to the wall, sustained by the boundaries of the spirals. They formed an intricate and grotesque design, invoking an art exhibition – a showcase of a composition by a daring artist.

Mike grabbed a guitar that resembled a normal electric guitar from Earth. He turned it around, observing it, and he didn’t notice any difference that effectively could distinguish it from any earthly electric guitar. The Doctor was looking at the wall, analysing the exposed instruments. Clara asked:

“What are they for?”

“The guitars are used… in music”, Chester stammered, trying to find an explanation. He hesitated, for he feared he was saying some kind of nonsense, and then he fell silent, compromised. He started to bite his fingernails.

“The fungi… they need music?”

“It’s a valid hypothesis, Mike”, the Doctor admitted, grabbing a second electric guitar. “The first fungus appeared on Earth in the dressing rooms of a festival where you and your friends were about to perform. Your music is quite noisy, according to what Clara told me. A feast for the fungus which infected your friend. It could develop faster in that kind of environment.”

“The fungus didn’t like Chaz’s screaming.”

“Chaz?”

“Chester”, Mike amended, blushing.

“It has a relation with frequency and timbre. Your friend Chester’s voice doesn’t have the same frequency and timbre of an electric guitar connected to an amplifier. Let’s try it?”

“Let’s try what?”

The Doctor smiled mischievously.

“To play!”

Mike showed a similar smile. He didn’t see any amplifier, or cables to turn the guitar on, but he suspected that those spirals on the wall would serve that purpose. He slid the fingers through the neck of the guitar. Clara observed:

“You have beautiful hands, Mike.”

“Uh… Thank you… I think… I think so. Thank you, Clara.”

“So what? I have hands, too”, muttered the Doctor.

Chester raised his eyebrows, noticing the cloaked jealousy and laughed. He loved to know a weakness of that man he disliked so much. It was something endemic and strange, probably unfair and unreasonable, but he couldn’t help it.

The Doctor and Mike turned to each other and they played a first chord. The strings of the two guitars vibrated in unison, and the sound produced was stupidly loud. They played a second, and a third chord, the Doctor started a typical Punk riff, and Mike became the backing guitar, letting the other to go ahead with his solo.

The music they played was wild, nonconformist and rebellious.

The lights over the boxes became bluish and four clamps appeared, connecting to the base. The platform where the fungi stood rotated, and each one of them transformed into a bubble that swelled, until it doubled and triplicated its volume. Clara opened her mouth, amazed with the vivarium modification, indicating clearly that the sound of the guitars was fattening the fungi. But Chester’s reaction was more sudden and instinctive, also more pointless. He jumped forward, to the area where the boxes were.

The guitars had also created a force field and Chester crashed into this invisible mesh. Static electricity crackled and the Linkin Park frontman was propelled backwards. He fell on his back, fainted. His body clashed violently on the floor, and he slid to a stop when he reached the wall.

Mike’s scream was excruciating.

“Chester!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chester is in trouble!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> An unexpected dispute.


	16. An unexpected dispute

Dave tried again to assume his role as team leader. At first, that task turned out to be ungrateful, for Brad and Rob were gesturing at each other, frantic, uncontrolled, and in distress, running over words in an unintelligible racket. The bassist stood between the two, opened and waved his arms, and commanded them to shut up. Even though the others had fell silent, surprised by that authority display, Dave continued to yell:

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“Hey, man… Joe’s missing”, Rob said.

Dave lost his temper again.

“Shut up!”, he insisted. “This discussion leads nowhere. Everybody shut their mouth, and let’s think. We need to think, not to argue. All right? All right?”

“Nobody is arguing”, Brad said, his eyes opened wide. “What’s wrong with you, Phoenix?”

“Shut up!”

“Fuck, stop that! We are quiet. What do you want?”

“Joe’s missing”, Rob repeated.

“We know he’s missing. That’s the only thing we _know_ ”, Dave said.

“And after _knowing_ that?”, Brad provoked.

“Wasn’t Joe in a coma?”

The bassist and the guitarist looked at the drummer at the same time.

“He was, but he was always able to move around and to be standing with no help”, Brad answered, more calmly. “He went to Mike in our dressing room, and there he stood on that rug, and then something happened that spooked Mike in a way…”

“It was when Mike screamed as a little girl”, Rob added.

“Yes, that… Mike screamed as a little girl, like when someone touches one of his oriental vases. We went to see what’s going on, and Mike locked us inside the dressing room, panicking. It smelled like something had burn, the rug caught fire, we called for a physician, and we ended up in a spaceship. Joe can move around.”

“And we forgot that fact. We let Joe on his own, and he couldn’t be on his own”, Dave completed, stroking his red bear nervously.

“What did you want to do? Tie him up to the bed?” Brad was startled. “He’s sick, Phoenix. We’ve got to help him, not to hurt him more.” He groaned, restless: “Poor Joe…”

Rob pointed to the door.

“And where did he go? I don’t think he has anything important and urgent to do on a spaceship parked in the middle of outer space, at one end of the Milky Way. When he was with us, on the backstage, it’s understandable that he went looking for us. It was to infect us and to spread the disease. But… here?”

“He’s being controlled by the fungus, and according to the Doctor, the fungus needs him to develop and to hatch. During this hatching phase, the parasite kills its host. Like those ants, back on Earth… Joe is in mortal danger!”, Brad concluded and he grabbed the head with his hands. His eyes watered and he stood there, awestruck, a scream stuck in his throat.

Dave hopped to the TARDIS’s console.

“What are you doing, Phoenix?”, Rob asked, turning his finger from the door to the humming column ornamenting the central part of the spaceship.

“With so many monitors and switches, there must be a way to find out where Joe is. By pointing a sensor, by making a scanning to the spaceship’s structure, by requesting a reading, some movie bullshit.”

“Do you know how to handle that?”

“It can’t be that hard… the Doctor moved levers like crazy, and the on-board computer responded.”

“An on-board computer.”

“This thing must have some sort of mechanism, Bourdon!”, Dave said, angrily. “I assume it’s a computer. The computers are indispensable, much more in a high-tech place like this one!”

In fact, he wasn’t mad at his friend, but at his unconfessed inability to start that sophisticated and intricate panel that was hiding, according to his logic, some higher developed computer system, because it was of an alien origin. Like he had seen in the movies, and relying once more in his film culture, because in the movies everything was simple and with an obvious solution, he pressed buttons randomly. At first, the console seemed to react positively – the gadget gears vibrated, different lights went on. But two and half seconds later, the console stopped, it went silent, and the spaceship interior illumination changed to a bluish half-light, as if it had entered a standby mode.

“What did you do?”, Brad asked, distressed.

“He didn’t do anything, that’s what happened”, Rob explained. “He thought he could mess around with the Doctor’s spaceship and he fucked things up. Come along, let’s search for Joe. It won’t be hard to find him.” He explained: “There’s a main corridor and two bifurcations, meaning two secondary corridors. If Joe took the left passage, he will find Mike and Chester, the Doctor and Clara. If he went to the right passage, like we did, he’ll take a smaller turn, and either returns to the TARDIS before we do, or we’ll catch him on his way.”

Brad opened his arms.

“See, Phoenix? Rob is being reasonable and he has a better plan than you.”

“So, why didn’t he tell me that before?”

“You didn’t let him…”

“Ah, shut up, both of you!”

“And if we shut up, we can’t tell you about our plans, that are incredibly better than your plans!”

They left the TARDIS. The door closed, and none of them noticed that the locker metal piece entered the latch, leaving the spaceship sealed. They were too worried about Joe to have realized that detail, or even to have listened the tiny click that sounded, incognito, in the icy silence of the corridor.

They did the same way as before – they went to the end of the corridor, then turned right, and walked with their eyes looking ahead, watching for any visible silhouette, for it would be Joe. They trusted that he would move very slowly, as he was comatose. But after a few minutes in an anxious silence, Dave commented:

“The first time we pass through here, we took lesser time…”

“Yes, we did”, Brad agreed.

“We are worried, so the way seemed longer”, Rob said.

“I think that should be the opposite”, Dave said.

Suddenly, they stopped at a second bifurcation.

“I don’t recall seeing this before”, Brad muttered, startled.

“Maybe we’d missed it in the first time”, Rob suggested.

“That thing you have to try to find an explanation for everything is beginning to get on my nerves, Bordoun!”, Dave threatened.

“Hey, guys! We can’t panic! I’m just trying to help. Being upset and nervous won’t help Joe.”

“Rob is right, Phoenix. What’s your problem? He’s just trying to be smart.”

“What do you mean, Delson? That before I wasn’t smart?”

“Shup up!”, Dave ordered. “Which way? Right or left?”

Brad took two steps forward, opened his arms.

“Look, I’m cold, so my suggestion is we’ll go right. That way is warmer…”

“Warmer?”

And without answering, Brad went into the right passage, trotting to shorten the walk that, according to the guitarist, was taking too long, and that was not even to contradict Dave. It was really an undeniable fact of that journey by foot on the mysterious spaceship. He heard Rob muttering behind his back, and Dave protesting that they didn’t vote in a possible choice, that was not the way to do things, he was the group leader. The three suddenly stopped when they arrived in a round room, the walls and ceiling covered with white foam. They couldn’t see the floor due to the fog accumulated on a low carpet of undulating rolls. The heat had risen and was suffocating inside that room, linked with the absurd humidity of the place.

“Definitely… we’ve never been here!”, Dave said, in a high-pitched tone.

Rob pointed out.

“Look!”

At the far end, leaning against the wall, was a motionless figure, his back to them. He was standing very straight, legs together, arms at his side. They recognized their friend and gasped with fright.

“What… what’s Joe doing here?”, Brad stammered.

Rob swallowed hard.

“The Doctor said the fungi that attack ants on Earth need moist places to grow and hatch… This room is a moist place. It means Joe is here to… to…”

Dave couldn’t finish.

“Joe didn’t come here voluntarily. It was the fungus that drove him here, just like the parasite on Earth does with ants”, Rob explained in a shaky whisper.

“Gosh! We can’t be here just watching!”, Brad shouted, and ran.

The other two called him, but the guitarist didn’t care for anything else – neither about potential risks, nor about inappropriate behaviour, nor if the fungus was contagious. He only saw his friend in mortal danger and he wanted to rescue him.

“Joe! Joe!”

The Korean didn’t react. Brad surrounded him and was startled with his paleness, his eyes half closed, his expression frozen in an empty apathy.

“Joe…”

Little green bubbles were stuck to his arms, to his face, and they were throbbing slowly, to the pace of his heartbeat.

“Scream, Brad!”, Dave asked approaching rapidly. “Scream like Chaz. It may stop the fungus, as it happened before.”

“Are you insane? I can’t scream like Chaz!”

“Try. Look, you can do it like this…”

Dave gave a hoarse scream. Some bubbles detached and were lost in the low fog. He screamed again and started to cough, choking on the warm, saturated atmosphere of the room. Brad looked at Rob, who understood the cry for help. He hugged Joe from behind and pulled him, to drag him out of that room, and remove him from that moist environment favourable to the fungus.

In an expected reaction, Joe started to squirm and squeak, and one of the kicks hit Brad, who fell.

“Shit! He doesn’t want to be save?”

“Phoenix!! Help me!”, Rob asked, keeping the hug tightly around the Korean’s torso.

Dave grabbed Joe’s legs, and he and the drummer carried him out of the room, with the DJ struggling insanely, screaming and kicking. Brad got up, and it was when he realized his hands were covered in mud. He looked appalled at that dirt, without understanding where it came from.

As soon as he left the room, Joe was quiet. He softened and fell asleep with a prolonged and tired exhalation. Dave and Rob dropped him at the same time, laying him on the floor. They sat, breathless. Dave combed his hair with the fingers, saying desolately:

“Well, after this one, I think we are infected.”

“It doesn’t matter. At least, we saved Joe. The fungus _won’t hatch_ on our watch.”

“Yeah, buddy.”

Brad emerged from the room, showing his muddy palms.

“Hey, guys… check this out.”

His knees weakened. The guitarist started to sweat profusely, rolled his eyes, and fell near Joe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They could manage do save Joe... but now, Brad is in trouble too.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Samples of important things.


	17. Samples of important things

Mike knelt next to Chester and started the reanimation procedures. His hands were shaking. He joined them together, interlacing the fingers, and began doing the cardiac massage, pressing his friend’s chest. After ten pressures, he leaned over, pinched his nose and blew inside his mouth. He repeated the series for three times, ten presses and one blow, but Chester didn’t awake. After a fourth series, he joined the mouth to his friend’s mouth, and blew with all his breath.

He spasmed with fear and felt cold. He wanted to weep, but tears wouldn’t change anything in that situation. So, he concentrated and committed himself. He did another series and blew again into his friend’s mouth.

Suddenly, Chester gasped and coughed. Mike grabbed his arms, put him over his right side, and Chester recovered his breath, amongst vomiting and panting. With a prolonged groan, he softened and Mike put him in the original lying position.

“You’ve just… you’ve just kissed me?”, Chester asked, hoarsely.

The Doctor and Clara leaned over briefly to check that everything was fine, and she sighed with relief, realizing Chester had regained consciousness. Mike said, flustered:

“I was doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! You were there without breathing, idiot!”

Chester wiped his numb lower lip with his fingertips.

“I think I felt a tongue…”

“A tongue?!”, Mike stammered, shockingly.

“Something wet.”

“Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation is done with… well, with the mouth, which is a wet… thing… idiot…”. As he was explaining this, Mike felt stupid and tired.

The Doctor intervened:

“When you two finish flirting, can we proceed? This isn’t over yet… In fact, is becoming more interesting.”

The Japanese’s turned red when he blushed intensely. Chester got up dizzy, propped up on his elbows. He noticed Clara was looking at him with concern. So, he had really been unconscious and with his life at risk. Without breathing, and Mike rushed to save him. That was special, in a way. Even if he had stuck something wet in his mouth. He grimaced. Did he have his friend’s saliva in his mouth?

Mike explained, tense:

“We… We weren’t… flirting. He… he was in danger.”

“He was pretending. He just wanted you to kiss him”, the Doctor said, impatiently.

Mike held his breath, ashamed. Chester grunted:

“I hate that old man!”

The Doctor turned to him, the eyebrows moving over his blue eyes:

“Be careful, little lad! Watch your tongue!”

“You already know that I hate you”, Chester provoked. “And I’m not a little lad.”

“I am a Timelord with more than two thousand years. Compared with me, you’re just an infant. So, consider yourself lucky that I don’t call you anything worse than _lad_ … lad!”

“Give it a try, old man.”

Clara pulled the Doctor’s coat sleeve.

“Can we stop the rooster fight and keep going?”, she asked, angrily. Mike was helping Chester to get up, holding him by the waist. “Didn’t you say it wasn’t over yet, Doctor? Chester had recovered and we have to understand what we have in this room. Several incubators, guitars, an alarm and protection system, prohibited sound and sanctioned sound. From all this data… which way to go? Joe Hahn is still in a coma, and there’s still a pending threat over the Earth!”

The Doctor straightened the coat over his shoulders and cleared his throat. He withdrew the sonic screwdriver. Mike waved his free arm, for he was using the other to sustain his friend who was swinging on his legs.

“Hey, you’re not going to use that, are you? We’re locked inside the vivarium since you used it for the first time. With a second time… what will happen? A cage that will confine us to an even smaller place?”

“Don’t be afraid. If anything unexpected happens… we’ll play the guitar.”

“Playing guitar is fattening the fungi, doesn’t unlock the vivarium. Are you sure you know what you are doing?”, Mike asked, sceptical. “Doctor…”

“All the time, or sometimes?”

“What do you mean?”

“I never know what I’m doing, but there are occasions when my instincts are right, and I was never… listen to me, Mike. I was never wrong. Inside my head, I have all the possible hypotheses, the past, the present and the future. There are so many ways and all are correct. But there are also those were the damages are lesser, and the Universe goes on. We must always travel those roads and trust our decisions.”

“I’m not relaxed, if you want my opinion”, Chester said.

The Doctor turned the sonic screwdriver on, the security procedure protecting the boxes and the developing fungi repeated itself. The room lighting became red and menacing. However, a set of hatches opened on the right wall. Mike and Chester jumped at the same time. The second one exclaimed:

“What the fuck! How did he know there were other doors in here?”

“Instinct, little lad!”, the Doctor answered, pointing a finger to his temple.

“It didn’t happen before”, Mike observed.

“Before… I was far away, and the vibrations of my sonic screwdriver were absorbed by the energetic field that’s protecting the vivarium. Don’t let me down. I still think you’re the smartest of your group.”

“Ah…”

Clara observed the hatches closely. There were seven of them, and each one had his shape and size. She crossed her arms, lost in her thoughts. The Doctor grabbed the guitar he played on and he advised Mike to do the same. The Japanese didn’t want to contradict the Doctor’s instincts and obeyed, just in case. Chester also chose a guitar, an acoustic one. He picked it just like a robber that was stealing the musical instrument, but since no one demanded him any explanations, he assumed the gesture with a certain pretentious way.

The three joined Clara.

“There are seven hatches. Seven possible paths.”

“Yeah…”, Chester agreed, slightly confused. The numbers were quite obvious.

“There are four of us. We won’t be able to cover three paths.”

“What do you mean, Clara?”

Without answering and without allowing them to react, Clara opened the lower hatch and went through it. Chester was astonished, Mike called her, the Doctor clung to the metal edge of the rounded window and shouted:

“Clara! What do you think you’re doing?”

From the bottom came her determined voice:

“I’m going this way. Each one of you should do the same. Choose a hatch and see how far it goes. See you in the TARDIS!”

They listened something scraping and she went away. The Doctor leaned over the hatch. His body entered half inside it, he briefly observed the shaft, for it was really a narrow conduct, he touched its walls, half closed his eyes, but the hallway curved ahead and Clara had already gone forward.

He straightened up, arranged his garment. He strapped the guitar in his shoulder, because his and Mike’s were equipped with a colourful and wide strip. He said:

“You heard Clara. Choose a hatch and go. We’ll meet in the TARDIS. By then, we’ll report what each one had discovered. I believe that the most interesting place of this abandoned spaceship will be the vivarium, but I could also be mistaken… on this matter, I’ve been mistaken quite some times. It’s fantastic!”. His eyes glowed with the last sentence.

“Are you going to let Clara be by herself on an alien spaceship?”, Chester said, disgusted.

“Little lad, Clara is a grown woman and she is used to travel with me. Very often, she makes decisions without consulting me. Don’t you want another guitar? That one is not practical to carry, it does not have a strip…”

“Thank you so much for worrying about with me, and not worrying about Clara”, Chester mocked. “I’ll keep this guitar.”

“Very well.”

The Doctor chose a hatch, he entered it and disappeared, like his companion.

“Hey, man. Don’t get into trouble”, Mike warned, uneasily. “I don’t want to reanimated you again…”. Chester smiled. “Why did you run towards that force field?”

“Instinct. I wanted to escape and the only exit was ahead. It was something stupid to do, I know, Spike… The door was locked and there was the force field. And there were the boxes with the fungi. It was stupid, I know… I know.”

Mike touched Chester’s shoulder.

“Everything is fine. So, forget it.”

“I already forgot.”

“And don’t repeat it!”

“I won’t, Spike. Relax.”

“Good luck. We’ll see each other on the TARDIS.”

“Right. Good luck to you too, man.”

Mike opened the furthest hatch and entered. Chester took a deep breath.

“Well, let’s go.”

He analysed the four remaining closed hatches. There was no possibility of screwing things up, but he didn’t was totally sure that he could make the best choice. He was in the hands of Destiny and he continued to gamble with the gods. He opened the hatch situated on top of the others, climbed to that upper passage with the help of only one hand, as the other hand was grabbing the guitar, rolled over in the entrance and fell in a vast and lighted gallery. It wasn’t a shaft, like in Clara’s case. So far, so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spaceship exploration continues!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The weird disease.


	18. The weird disease

Dave Farrell wanted to weep. He had the enormous desire to remain where he was, sitting on the floor, defeated by the circumstances. His brain had, purely and simply, shut down and he was unable to activate his motor functions. The monumental weight of his failure was crushing him and he felt powerless, in an atrocious and cruel way.

Two hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Dave felt like a tiny spark trying to reboot his internal engine and his stilled spirit. A distant voice begun, little by little, entering his ears where an uninterrupted whistle persisted.

“Phoenix!... Phoenix! Phoenix, wake up… Phoenix! Phoenix!”

He blinked and his eyes cleared up. He recognized in the focusing image the sweaty face of Rob Bourdon. His friend, his band mate, the famous Linkin Park drummer.

“Phoenix! Are you feeling anything? Are you infected too?”

He cleared his throat to force the voice that was silent in his strangled vocal cords. The wish to despair and to give up remained too strong, but he wanted to overcome it and to be able to react, because it was Rob Bourdon there, and because they were still inside a damn alien spaceship lost at the far reaches of the Milky Way, following a Doctor and a beautiful woman, whom he had met a few hours ago.

Everything was so surreal that he started to laugh.

He gave a hollow laugh, and then he hid the face inside his hands, lamenting.

“I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry… I think I’m not infected.”

Rob sighed, relieved. He sat beside him, bent his knees. He rested his fists on the kneecaps.

“Shit… you scared me. I was already seeing myself alone with Joe in a coma, Brad fainted and you starting the infection. What do we do now? You’re our leader.”

A small anger made his blood rise to his cheeks. He pursed his lips in disgust. Now they wanted him for their leader! When things had gone wrong!

He drove out the bitterness, the panic and the momentary sadness resolutely. Yes, he was still the leader of that small group, and he needed to behave as such. He couldn’t resign himself from that task, or delegated it. When he looked at Rob, he remembered that he was the youngest of them. Twenty-nine years old. Practically a child compared to him, who had already thirty-one.

He tried to adopt a professional posture as commander of something, incarnating that theatrical role.

“Brad could have been infected; we don’t know that yet. We have to take him back to the TARDIS and moving him, and Joe, away from this spaceship atmosphere. The humidity enhances the development and the aggressivity of the fungus, we saw as Joe kicked when we tried to bring him with us. Inside the TARDIS we’ll have controlled air by that strange on-board computer and the fungus won’t do worse than it already did to their system. The fungus stays more or less dormant and, in those rooms, we’ll have sound isolation and all that crap.”

“Yeah, Brad isn’t infected with the fungus yet… he’s not cold as Joe is.”

“How do you know that, Rob?”

“I touched them both. To measure the body temperature, as my mom used to do. Hand in the forehead. Brad looks like he has a fever, and Joe looks like he died.”

Dave leaned over the Korean.

“Joe is still breathing, man… don’t say those things.”

“I was just making a comparison, so you’ll understand what I mean.”

“I always understand what you mean. You use to be too quiet and don’t usually say anything, that’s your problem.” He crouched down next to the guitarist; he made a quick observation. “I’m not seeing green bubbles on Brad.”

“Maybe, they didn’t appear yet. He only has dirty hands. Look…”

Rob grabbed his friend’s wrists.

“Could be these crusts?”. Dave scraped the hardened mud with the index fingernail, which dissolved into dark sand.

“Don’t’ touch that! You don’t know if the fungus is mixed with that mud!”

“No, it’s not… otherwise, the body temperature would be identical for Joe and Brad.”

“Uh… Very well said, doctor Farrell.”

“You’re welcome, assistant Bourdon.”

“Let’s cut the jokes. Our friends are in need for medical care.” Rob sighed, desolately. “How are we going to transport them back to the TARDIS?”

“Each one takes his patient.”

“OK… You’ll carry Joe.”

“He’s too fat, Rob! If I carry him, I’ll hurt my back!”

“You do bodybuilding, exercise, gymnastics, lift weights.”

“And you do surf, and meditation, and all those Buddhist bullshit!”

“I’ll carry Brad.”

The drummer cuddled his feverish friend’s hair. He called him, to see if he’d woke him up, but by the murmurs he realized that he wouldn’t get his cooperation. With extreme care, he turned him over. He put an arm around his back, the other one around the back of his knees, and lifted him up. The effort taken to carry the guitarist this way was enormous, but Rob clenched his teeth and he didn’t complain. He knew that on that bargain he took the advantage.

Dave took a deep breath. Joe Hahn was overweight, he liked to announce he didn’t care less about how he looked like. He would show them two middle fingers when they asked him about all the junk food he was eating, and that he should take better care of his health. And even so he was deeply loved. By his friends, and by the band’s fans.

“I think I’m gonna drag Joe…”

“Don’t do that, man”, Rob asked in a broken voice. “He’s already all screwed up with the fungus.”

“The spaceship’s floor is smooth and it would help him to slide, man!”

“You have enough strength to carry Joe.”

“Yeah… right.”

The bassist agreed to accept Rob’s concern. He took a deep breath for a second time. He was gaining courage. He approached the Korean, pulled him by the arms and sat him up. Joe oscillated and kept the position. His illness was, notoriously, different from Brad’s. Dave gave him another tug on his arms and Joe was able to stand up.

“That’s it, buddy… maybe he’ll walk on his own feet and help us…”

However, as soon as his nervous system realized that he was on that upright position, Joe turned and headed for the moist room. Dave pulled him by the t-shirt, stopping him, and the Korean became static, with the right leg in the air.

“Wow, wow, mister Hahn! Stop right there! Did you check this out, Bourdon? Joe must be programmed to follow moist.”

“Don’t you want to hurry up? Delson could be thin, but he weights as a grown dude!”

“Right! Sorry, man…”

Dave leaned against the DJ’s chest, he pushed him and with a single movement placed him on his right shoulder. His legs gave in. he howled, also clenched his teeth and instructed Rob to get on the way. Surprisingly, Joe didn’t resist the transportation.

After a few steps, Dave was sweating like a racing horse, and he was groaning under Joe Hahn’s monstrous weight on his back. He thought he was going to shatter his lower jaw, because he was clenching it so hard, and he was listening the cracks the bones were making, starting at the skull and ending at the ankles. Rob was also suffering with the guitarist in his arms. It was better if they dragged them across the spaceship’s smooth floor. But it would be disrespectful, weird and sloppy. Each was thinking to make the suggestion, of course, but none of them wanted to be the first.

A yellow spotlight lit up over them. Rob and Dave stopped.

A metallic voice issued a warning that echoed in the corridor:

“Stop! Not one more step! You are our prisoners!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were captured! By whom or what?...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The real enemy.


	19. The real enemy

If at the beginning Chester was advancing confidently of what he was doing there, as he penetrated deeper and deeper into that spaceship made of intricate and strange rooms, made of ascents, descents, broad staircases, narrow steps, tubes, rooms and halls in a labyrinth that was both dark and colourful, he began to think he was inside a psychedelic dream. If before it all seemed fun, his good mood was crumbling now in scraps of apprehension, fear and suspicion.

“It looks like fucking Wonderland”, he said aloud. He found that he liked to hear his own voice, it was as if he had found a palliative that gave him back some of his serenity, and continued his dissertation: “Yes. Fucking Wonderland. In no time I’ll find Alice and her pills, which made her grow or shrink… hey, dude, give me one of your sweets too… and I’ll stumble on that crazy white rabbit… and I’ll find the caterpillar on top of the mushroom smoking that shit and I’ll ask him for a drag. I’m gonna get _high_. Yeah, _higher_ than I already am! What a fucking ship… I wonder if Mike’s hatch also took him to a place like this one. This doesn’t make any sense… it’s more like an amusement park than a spaceship… Well, that blue telephone box is also a spaceship. I’m getting _stoned_ , I’m…

He didn’t finish his analysis. The floor gave way to a ramp and Chester rolled over until he stopped at the end of the unexpected descent. He dropped the acoustic guitar. With the blows, the resonance box vibrated and some out-of-tune notes sounded, reflected by the walls in an infinite cycle of sound that was getting more and more distorted. Chester looked up to the ceiling and he saw cables stretched and twisted, from wall to wall, oscillating as the sound was passing through them. They were the strings of a huge musical instrument. Chester was looking the spaceship’s ceiling for the first time and he wondered if the ship wasn’t that musical instrument. It made perfect sense, since the parasitic fungi lived on sound.

The indirect lights increased the claustrophobic sensation, as if over him was a net ready to wrap and capture him. He got up without breaking his attention towards the ceiling, prepared for an attack. He walked carefully; he recovered the guitar. The sound waves continued to spread, the tone was becoming more dramatic, oppressive, it was crushing everything, making the walls wavering.

A window opened to his left and Chester jumped, scared. Clara came running and clashed with him. They fell, he dropped the guitar again. Another random chord that fed the ceiling cables that were now singing happily.

“Clara! What are you doing here?”

Chester gave his hand and aided her to stand up.

“Chester! I don’t know… I don’t know where I was going. The corridor was splitting in other small corridors, and I was walking faster and faster until I started running. I had the feeling that something was chasing me, a gigantic green bubble. An ultra-developed fungus… What is this sound?”. And as she said it, she covered the ears with her hands.

“It was my guitar that caused this out-of-tune symphony. It’s the ceiling. Look.”

Clara looked up, lowering her arms.

“What are they? The strings of a giant guitar?”

“Or the inside of a massive piano… I have no idea. Didn’t you see Mike?”

“No. I didn’t even see the Doctor. I was trying to return to the TARDIS, but I think I got lost.”

“I’m lost too. I don’t know which is the right way anymore. It seems… All of this seems…”

He bit the lips, shutting up. He felt a warm touch on his arm.

“It seems what?”, Clara asked, and they looked at each other. “Tell me, Chester…”

He took a deep breath. He trusted her, he felt good beside her.

“It seems an illusion. Something… that only exists in our head. Our fears and our fantasies. The spaceship is playing with us.”

She considered that theory, she considered it seriously. He looked at Chester for some long and interminable seconds, thinking about the implications of that possibility, measuring it according to her own experience when she made her way until she went up there. She nodded.

“Perhaps. The TARDIS can enlighten us.”

“Why do you… trust that telephone box so much?”

“She is not just a telephone box; she is an entity. She’s the Doctor’s best friend. See? It’s a _she_ , not a _it_.”

Chester smiled at her.

“I thought you were the Doctor’s best friend.”

“Ah…”. Clara laughed and caught his arm. “That too, Chester. I’m also the Doctor’s best friend. But he had… other companions before me. Let’s continue. We don’t know if the TARDIS is far away. And if this spaceship represents an enigma to our imagination, we should protect ourselves from its traps.”

“And we still have to find a cure for Joe.”

They started walking together, very close. The out-of-tune music was fading and it was gone completely, being replaced by a cold stillness, when they abandoned the room with the cables on the ceiling. They returned to an anonymous corridor, identical to the first one they walked on the spaceship.

“Call me Chaz, please.”

“Hum-hum.”

“The Doctor is a womanizer? You said he had other… companions? The old man is not ashamed of that behaviour?”

She laughed again. Her laughter was beautiful, he thought.

“Oh, Chester!... Chaz. Don’t judge the Doctor, and his companions aren’t what you are thinking. We are part of… his adventures. It’s just that. And the Doctor didn’t always look like this, you know? I’ve met him different…”

“Adventures… right.”

“Yes, adventures! To travel through space and time is a real adventure! I’m here with you, the famous Linkin Park frontman, on an abandoned spaceship, somewhere in the Milky Way, trying to discover how to eliminate an alien fungus. And then I hope to see your show in Milton Keynes. And that’s my _past_. I’m living this day of June, 2008, for the second time.”

“I also hope to sing in that show”, he sighed, discouraged.

“Only with the Doctor and his magical telephone box we can do that. To be fighting aliens and to end the day with a Rock show. That, my dear friend, is an adventure!”

“I’m gonna believe in your optimism. Because, right now, I’m not feeling very optimistic… It doesn’t seem to me that we’re having a Rock show by the end of the day and I’m quite worried about Joe.”

“He’s in the TARDIS and the TARDIS will take good care of him.”

“All right…”

“Chaz, a little more faith…”

Clara leaned against his shoulder, and Chester wanted to hug her and to get lost in that moment. She was a small and fragrant woman, full of energy and self-confidence, smart, vigorous, interesting and quite beautiful. More beautiful than he wanted her to be, but it was a fact that her big eyes bewitched him and kept him warm in that cold and quiet place.

He felt a weight and stopped. Chara was pulling his arm.

“Wait… Are you seeing that?”

It was a new hatch, hexagonal, with a gold metallic frame.

“I didn’t do anything with the guitar”, he said. “Usually it’s the sound that opens those doors, but now I was quiet and we didn’t do any noise that could cause that passage to appear. I’m innocent!”

“I think the window was already there. Let’s take a look.”

She let go of him. She had the good sense to see through the window first and grabbing the latch after, but as soon as she saw what was happening on the other side, she let go and she took a step back. She covered the mouth with her fingers, opened her eyes wide and gasped, taken by a panic that was cold as the freezing air.

Chester approached the hatch. The window showed, from an elevated position, a vast white compartment. The walls were covered with racks and flashing lights, and there was a platform in the middle, with inclined accesses, which resembled a control centre. Circling the room were what it seemed to be giant salt shakers, decorated with spheres, its lids rotating from side to side, while moving rigid metallic appendixes.

“I think we found the spaceship’s bridge. Those robots are protecting the heart of the ship… They are so… ridiculous! What scared you?”

Clara whispered:

“Chaz… they are daleks!! They are commanding this spaceship!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! The real enemies... are a real problem!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Improvising and continuing.


	20. Improvising and continuing

The Doctor’s short trip inside the spaceship was really short. The hatch he had chosen revealed a dark and circular corridor that took him back to the vivarium. He found it very strange and intriguing. He held the guitar and prepared to play some chords, but when he adjusted the black pick between the fingers, he gave up. He studied the wall and noticed that of the seven hatches created with his sonic screwdriver, powered by the Punk solo he shared with the smart Japanese called Mike, there was only one and it seemed to be merging with the structure. It was an opening similar to a narrow door, with a Gothic lintel carved in stone. It didn’t waste time hesitating. He opened that last hatch and went through it.

He arrived to a room full of doors like the one where he came from. The walls, then, spun as a roulette wheel and he was unable to know through which door he went there. He smiled with the challenge, admired with the versatility of that spaceship.

He began to suspect what was going on, what was the technology used with astonishment, discredit and vanity, drawing one of his crazy plans, but the incessant noise of his brain working in full power was silenced when he saw coming through one of the doors, as soon as the rotating mechanism parked, the smart Japanese.

“Mike!”

“Doctor?”

The other was startled, but as soon as he recognized the Doctor, he approached, relieved.

“What did you find out, lad?”

“Nothing… I wanted to find the way back to the TARDIS and, in the end, I’m here.”

“You saw strange things…”

“Was that a question? Yeah, I saw some pretty weird stuff. I saw keyboards, pianos, violins, oboes, cellos, drums, tambourines, whistles, harps, funny musical instruments that looked like they came out from a Star Wars movie, musical instruments that I don’t even remember what they are called. A real orchestra! There was always the temptation to play them, to try them, but then I refrained my instincts and grabbed my hands together. There were funnels following me, sound receivers, speakers and other gadgets that wanted to capture the musical notes that I would produce, eventually. There were melodies in my head that I haven’t written yet, others that I wrote a long time ago. The future and the past. A nightmare, Doctor.”

“Hum… Perfect!”

“Perfect?”, Mike said, surprised. “I don’t understand…”

The Doctor had a huge smile and his blue eyes were shining. He explained:

“My experience in the path I chose was different from yours. And I bet that Clara’s experience, and even your friend’s experience, were also different. They are not in danger, far from it. Unless your friend’s mind has monsters.”

“Chaz… Chester is in danger!”, Mike exclaimed, startled.

“Well, your friend is going to make it. Don’t worry. Anyway, this ship connected itself to the neurological pattern of each one and it transforms, it redoes, it reconfigures, presenting itself according to our wishes, longings and ideas. It’s in a constant metamorphosis that drives us out of our objectives. The confusion is enormous, if we don’t know what’s going on. But from the moment we crack the code, it collaborates with us. I haven’t stumble in a spaceship like this in a long time.”

“Have you ever been on a spaceship like this…”

“That was a question? Yes, Mike, this spaceship model is familiar to me.”

“Are the spaceships from that war?”

“The Zorban wars? No… this technology that uses brain waves and intellectual standards is the work of the people of Buondabuonda. At the beginning, when we arrived here with the TARDIS, I thought it was a Zorbanian spaceship because of this specific area of the Milky Way. The war of the heirs happened here, the relics from that conflict are all around and… you heard me a moment ago”, he said, impatiently. He narrowed his eyes and declared, solemnly: “However, it was already _this_ spaceship confusing my perception.”

“Buondabuonda? It seems the name of one of those tropical Polynesian islands, which everyone says is a paradise to go on a vacation.”

“Buondabuonda is very hot, indeed! How do you know that, Mike? That’s why is so cold in here. It’s to compensate the impossibly hot weather. The planet natives are always complaining about the heat.”

“It was a wild guess.”

“Well, this spaceship is definitely a buondabuonda spaceship that uses technology originated in Gallifrey, my home planet. It’s very similar, although with the proper distance and lesser ingenuity, to the TARDIS technology.”

“Ah… On this spaceship we can observe the technologically superior skills of the Timelords.”

“You’re still being smart. Bravo, Mike! Yes and no. There is, clearly, an inspiration in Gallifrey’s technology, but the stolen plans were incomplete and adaptations were made. It has its merit, but there are also flaws. This spaceship likes to play. It doesn’t take anything seriously, and when it gets angry, can be unforgiving. That is the disadvantage of a buondabuonda spaceship, its unstable mood. And now that I have discovered the mystery, it will be easier for me to move around inside here.” He pulled out the sonic screwdriver, and he started to observe the room carefully, whose walls began to rotate again.

Mike asked, confused:

“What this have to do with Joe and the fungus?”

“The fungus is being raised in a vivarium inside this spaceship, because it’s an unbreakable place. Better than the safest safe in any galaxy. It was pure luck that we found the vivarium. Or the vivarium wanted to be found by _me_ , a Timelord. There was no better place to hide the endeavour of raising an organism designed to invade the Universe… which leads me to conclude…”

He fell silent, standing in the centre of the room, with the sonic screwdriver ready.

“What is your conclusion, Doctor?”

“The invasion is being led by other creatures.”

“More aliens.”

“We’re in the middle of space, Mike. Earthlings, in your time, have not yet managed to go further than the Moon. By definition, everything that exists here is alien to you.”

“We will go to Mars.”

“Oh yes! And you will leave the Solar System!”

“What are those creatures? When you arrived here, you said they were no other life forms. After all, we’ve never been alone.”

“The spaceship is from Buondabuonda! That information was cloaked and I was deceived. The TARDIS tried to warn me, but I simply ignored her… I still haven’t learned that I should never ignore her. She told me that the origin of the fungus was here, and she had more to tell me, but I’m impatient. I also have my dumb moments, like you.”

“Thank you very much, Doctor”, Mike muttered.

The Doctor turned the sonic screwdriver on.

There was a chain reaction. The sound waves stopped the walls mechanism, crackles and sparks appeared with the sudden braking, pieces of the ceiling collapsed and there was a little earthquake that destabilized the room, tilting and bumping the floor. Mike protected himself by cringing and covering his head with the arms. The Doctor screamed and he saw him shaking the arm.

“What happened?”

“My sonic screwdriver! It was destroyed! It blew up…”

“That… That’s bad?”

“I’ll do another one in the TARDIS. If I have the components…”

A bright white light came on and Mike closed his eyes. He reached into the coat’s pocket and took his sunglasses. The Doctor held out his hand and demanded:

“Give me that!”

Mike was startled.

“Give you… give you what?”

“That fantastic object!”

“My… my sunglasses?”. He handed them to the Doctor who put them on his face, adjusting them to the nose with the help of his fingers over the frame attached to the ears. “They are just some… ordinary sunglasses…”

“They are perfect, Mike. Who needs a dull screwdriver when one can do things in style?”

Mike didn’t understand. He took a quick look around and said:

“Doctor… we have to get out of here. The room is destroyed and a fire broke out. We can get intoxicated with the smoke.”

“Yes, let’s go”.

To protect himself from the intense light, Mike put a hand to his forehead, since the Doctor didn’t return his sunglasses. They climbed the wreckage, avoiding the smoky ones for they were hotter, they moved a panel away, they uncovered a passage and went through it. They arrived at a second smaller room, apparently with no exit. Mike was going to suggest that they should turn around and try to discover another way, when a screen suddenly went on and showed some sort of a giant salt shaker in close up. A blue eyepiece blinked on the lid of the salt shaker, and an angry and outraged voice was heard:

“Doctor?!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The daleks have found the Doctor!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Prisoners.


	21. Prisoners

Mike felt that everything was becoming more and more unreal and out of control, and that pissed him off. He never did like surprises, missteps, random variables. Now they were facing a talking salt shaker. The Doctor, apparently, was used to all these bizarre, unprecedented and extraordinary things. After all, the man himself was an alien who travelled through space and time. The latter put the fists on his waist, pulled the coat’s flaps away, the red lining flashed theatrically, and he declared:

“It’s you!!”

That is, Mike Shinoda stayed exactly at the same point, for he had no idea _who_ or _what_ the salt shakers could be.

The salt shaker spoke on the screen, in a robotic tone:

“Doctor, we have your friends with us. So, do not attempt anything funny or we’ll display no mercy. They will be exterminated immediately and with you watching it, if you decide to continue your pathetic expedition on this spaceship.”

“The daleks are making prisoners?”, the Timelord sneered, proudly, with a laugh. “The daleks _never_ take prisoners.”

“A buondabuonda spaceship likes to shuffle its pilots’ directives.”

“Ah, a buondabuonda spaceship has its personality. And, as it uses Gallifrey’s technology, you should know there is a certain incompatibility with the arbitrary, violent and primary orders of the sons of Skaro.”

“We have made some adjustments and the spaceship is more obedient. Soon we’ll have the absolute control of this vehicle and we will reign undefeated in the Universe! Stay away, Doctor! The Earth is ours. Colonization has begun. Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!”

“I will never let the Earth fall. Much less in your hands, daleks. You are still wanting to strike Earth to get to me faster. That plan of yours had failed so many times. Why do you insist? You will be defeated by me, as has happened before.”

Mike muttered:

“Daleks?...”

It was a very ridiculous name, as much as the appearance of those supposed alien warriors that had declared war to… He had that doubt. To what exactly? Were they threatening the Earth, the Doctor, or the whole Universe?

The salt shaker rolled, and it showed what was in the background, behind him, in that white room.

“Go away, Doctor. Or they will be exterminated immediately.”

Mike jumped forward.

“Chester?!”

The Doctor made an effort not to lose his composure. But he got angry. He placed the sunglasses on his forehead, the thick eyebrows united over his icy blue eyes.

“Clara…”

On the screen, being targeted by the weapons of four daleks that were watching them in close formation, were Clara and Chester, next to each other. The vocalist was still holding the acoustic guitar, he had it in his right hand.

Mike called, distressed:

“Chester!! Chester!!”

“Mike!”, Chester shouted from the other side. Clara covered his mouth and made him a sign to shup up and to calm down. She was livid and frightened, she certainly knew the salt shakers’ reputation, also knowing that there was no margin for mistakes or games.

The Japanese begged:

“Doctor… we have to do something.”

The Doctor regained his cold blood. He seemed angrier.

“They are my friends and I order you to release them, with no harm done, or you’ll experience my fury. And you _hate_ the fury of a Timelord! The memories of the Time War are painful and unforgettable. Do you want to remember the trauma of your unfortunate defeat? How many times more? For how many millennia? Release my friends. Immediately!”

“Your sonic screwdriver doesn’t work in a buondabuonda spaceship designed to create avaza. The sound strengthens them. You have been collaborating with our efforts to destroy the Earth. Whatever you do, you will be contributing to our victory. You will lose this war. Skaro will emerge victorious and he will dominate the Universe. Without your sonic screwdriver, you won’t find us. Return to your TARDIS, Doctor! Return. If you are obedient, we can show some… good will and your friends will be there, waiting for you.”

Suddenly, the Doctor grabbed his guitar and smashed it against the screen, shattering it. The transmission ended in a small explosion. It also destroyed the guitar and so he threw it away. Mike stepped back, protecting his face with one arm.

“What do we do now? We don’t know where they are!”, he said, hot-headed.

“We cannot negotiate with daleks, Mike!”, the Doctor replied, also hot-headed.

“You cut off the only way of communication with the kidnappers!”. Mike calmed down; he swallowed the saliva he had in his mouth. He explained his point of view: “I agree, we shouldn’t negotiate with… uh, with those guys, but without communicating, without seeing them or anything, how are we gonna find out where are they hiding? How are we gonna find Chester and Clara? How? This ship changes its configuration according to what we want or think.”

“Exactly!”

The Doctor grabbed Mike’s shoulders and repeated:

“Exactly! You are worried about your friend, just as I’m worried with Clara. Think about him, think about him and how you want so desperately to save him, and then guide me. My memory is too vast for me to focus on the unique and special feeling I have for Clara. There’s too much past, future and eternal in my mind and I fear that I may lose the game with the spaceship. But you… you are going to reach the place where your friend is.”

“What do I have to do?… Do I have just… just to think about him?”

“Yes. Just think about him. Wish with all your heart to be with him.”

“And the salt shakers?”

“What salt shakers, lad?!”

“The salt shakers… the… the daleks.”

“Don’t worry about the daleks. I will deal with them.”

“You don’t have a gun.”

“I’m a Timelord. That’s enough.”

Mike held his breath. He was feeling crushed and afraid. He made a lot of questions:

“Am I taking you with me, Doctor? How will this work? It’s some Star Trek shit, ‘ _beam me up, Scotty_ ’ and all that? Are we going to teleport to where Chester and Clara are?”

“Don’t let me down, lad!”. The Doctor squeezed Mike’s collarbones and he groaned. “You are still the smartest of your group, and that’s why the spaceship brought us together. It recognized that we have an affinity with each other. There is no teleport, the spaceship will reconfigure itself, and it will open the way to the room where your friend is. You will not suddenly appear in the middle of the daleks, you will find the way to get there. Ready? Let’s go, lad. Start thinking!”

Even in disbelief that he would be able to do what the Doctor was asking him to do, Mike nodded.

“OK. I’ll give it a try.”

“Don’t try!”

Mike waved the hands, apologetically.

“OK, OK, I got it. Some Yoda stuff. Don’t try. Do it. OK, I’ll _do it_!”

“Why do you insist on telling me about those stupid Earth movies? Dagobah is, in fact, a quite pleasant planet, it’s not that dark swamp full of disgusting creatures.”

The astonishment gave him a shiver and Mike muttered:

“Does Dagobah exist?”

“Forget about that, lad. Think about your friend. Think really hard! Think you want to save him and if you don’t do it, he will be lost, and you can’t go to play your show tonight.”

It was a good motivation – the show at Milton Keynes. They were so far away from England, from normality, from the joy of being on stage, entertaining a frantic and anxious crowd to hear them, that it seemed almost impossible for him to play music in his life again. After all, if he gave up and stayed on that ship forever in the middle of space, his epitaph would be exactly that one. Here lies Michael Kenji Shinoda, buried among the stars, he never played music again, although he still had a lot of music to create and to illuminate the world.

Then, he closed his eyes tightly. He thought about Chester.

_Buddy! I’m coming. Stay strong. I’m coming and I’m gonna save you._

The floor moved horizontally. He bent the knees to keep his balance.

He opened the eyelids with the Doctor’s triumphant announcement.

“Bravo, lad!”

A white double door appeared before them. And there was a side panel with a big grey button that would certainly open it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Clara and Chester are with the daleks! But Mike and the Doctor are coming to help them.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Little terrors.


	22. Little terrors

“He’s worse.”

Dave peered at Brad. The guitarist face was covered with pearls of sweat, he was flushed, his mouth cracked and he quivered in murmurs, agitated in a restless sleep. Yes, his fever had clearly increased. Dave felt him burning when he touched his temple with the back of his hand.

“Fuck…”

His main concern was that they didn’t have anything to help him to low the abnormal body temperature. A simple pill, a wet and cold towel. It was frustrating and irritating, all at the same time, in a mixing of bad feelings that left him fussy, almost violent. He only needed the right trigger and would start to punch and kick the first thing that gets in front of him!

Rob sat beside him, after he had walked that airtight box for the tenth time, where they were locked inside. In some ingenious and unknown way, the box let the air through, otherwise they would have suffocated a long time ago. Dave estimated that at least thirty to forty minutes had passed. The drummer pulled the knees to his chest, hugging his own legs.

“And now, what do we do?”, he asked.

“I have no idea, Rob”, Dave snarled, trying not to aim his latent anger to his buddy, who wasn’t guilty of what was happening, nor he, or the sick Brad, or the infected Joe.

“Brad needs medication. He’s gonna bake his brain with this fever, and we’ll lose our guitarist.”

“I know, Rob. I know.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I have no idea. My best guess is that we were taken prisoners by someone who’s also aboard this ship. We heard that voice coming from nowhere saying we were being captured, and this cell appeared, where they put us, like an instant prison. With no windows, no doors, no bars, no glasses or mirrors, with nothing.”

“It must have some opening; we are still breathing normally and the air hasn’t become staled.”

Dave sighed. He ran a hand over his face, tugged his red beard.

“Rob… my dear Rob. We’ve done this inspection a thousand times. It must be some sort of alien technology. We, poor humans, were not made to break this code and solve the equation that would allow us to escape through that exhaust system that is renewing the breathable air inside here. We are prisoners”, he emphasised.

“Who’s keeping us as prisoners?”

Rob looked around. The light was low, bluish, they could see shapes and outlines, only up close it was possible to recognize features. The box wasn’t very big, but the four of them where at ease, being two adults lying in the floor.

“The Doctor had said that there were no life forms on this abandoned spaceship. What a bullshit!”, Rob said, annoyed.

“The Doctor may not know everything. He discovers things with the help of that sonic screwdriver and the telephone box. He feels the terrain, like any of us, when he faces a different and unseen situation. Ah! I don’t even know why I’m defending the guy, we just met him!”

“Only the Doctor could save us from this, Dave…”

“And how can we warn him?”

“We can try to scream and hit the walls.”

“Have you seen these walls, man? They appear to be made of solid steal. I don’t believe they let any sound pass.”

“Or maybe it does. The fungi are sound thieves, and this spaceship may be designed to be able to capture, absorb and devour any sound wave. Maybe that’s what they want us to do… a deafening noise to fatten the fungi.”

“Hey, we have a fungus _inside_. Have you forgot? Joe is over there, in a coma, precisely because he has a fungus in his system.”

Rob lowered his head.

“Still… I think we should try”, he insisted. “For Brad. Joe is sick and we already know that the normal medicine can’t save him. But Brad… we only need a fucking aspirin to ease his suffering, man.”

He stood up, determined to put his plan into practice. To hit and scream until he got tired. Call for Mike, the Doctor, anyone, even calling his mysterious executioners. Someone would show up.

He raised his right hand, the hand closed in a fist.

They heard something scratching, a deep breath and a cough. Dave also stood up and grabbed the drummer’s arm. He put a finger to his mouth, asking for silence. The coughing doubled and after a few gasps, and a few more vomits, they saw the Korean’s silhouette rise. In that half-light they distinguished his pale complexion, his dull eyes, his wet mouth. They screamed when they heard him say:

“Hey… who turned off the light on this shit hole? I can’t see a thing!”

“J-Joe?...”, Dave stammered. “Joe? Are you… awake?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking awake. Who turned off the dressing room lights? We are in the middle of the dark… is this some new trend from Shinoda? He always finds some ecological shitty thing to annoy us.”

Rob whispered:

“Joe… do you feel OK?”

“No. I’m with a terrible headache… like if I have a hangover. I didn’t drink or smoke anything, I don’t know where this came from. I have to take something, or I won’t be able to perform at the show. Hey, why is Brad lying on the floor looking like he’s dead? He didn’t die, did he? Because this is looking like a fucking funeral.”

“You were…”

“Are you feeling all right?”, Dave said, suspiciously.

“No, I feel like shit. I have a headache. Brad? Brad, cut the theatre!”

Joe kicked the guitarist who groaned loudly. Rob jumped forward, he grabbed the Korean by the arms and pushed him.

“Take it easy, man. Brad is sick.”

“Can someone turn on the light? I’m not liking this. Where are the others? Where’s Chaz?”

“It’s a very long… story, Joe”, Rob started. “Don’t you remember anything?”

“Rob, let him go. You shouldn’t touch him”, Dave warned.

“Why can’t you touch me?”

“The bubbles… he doesn’t have bubbles any more. They disappeared. His arms are clean. Look. No bubbles. Not one. A single one! And they didn’t fall, or anything like that. I’m not seeing any bubble on the floor. They were absorbed by his body, his immune system reacted, and it eliminated the bubbles.”

“That may not have happened, Rob! We don’t know what happened.”

“Bubbles? I had bubbles?”

“Yes, Joe. In your arms. And you had a huge green mass on your head, like a helmet. It was the fungus. You were infected with the fungus that likes sound.”

“Fungus?”. The Korean laughed. “What have you two been smoking, man? You just convinced Mr. Hygiene man over here to try your weed, Phoenix? Fuck! You already got into Chaz’s shit… You’re so screwed. If you try it, Rob, you’re gonna make the trip until the end. You won’t want anything else. You’ll play your drums like a wizard.”

“He’s talking normally, Dave. He’s cured”, the drummer said, enthusiastically.

“That… that doesn’t make any sense”, the bassist said, suspiciously. “Rob, come here. Get away from Joe.”

“Ah, stop being pessimistic! Joe’s back. Welcome back, man!”

“Turn the light on, Phoenix. Hey… what’s this?”

The Korean bent the right arm by the elbow and discovered the handkerchief wrapping the fingers of his right hand, two ends tied in a knot around the wrist. He yanked the handkerchief off. In the darkness, the fingernail index glowed in a fluorescent green. Dave shouted:

“Rob!!!”

Too late.

Joe Hahn made a devilish smile. And in a quick move, with no possibility of defence or retreat, he stuck his contaminated index finger into Rob Bourdon’s open mouth. Dave Farrell leaned against the smooth wall of the box and gasped in fear. He saw Rob’s body shake with violent spasms, and then go abnormally still. He saw Rob’s body light up like a living torch, a bluish flare that covered him from top to bottom, and then diluted, leaving an acrid smell of scorched things. He screamed – the same hysterical and girlish scream that they heard from Mike.

Rob turned to him. Side by side with Joe, they were both covered with small green bubbles that were spreading slowly over the skin of their arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now is Rob too...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Reunion.


	23. Reunion

As soon as the door jambs slid horizontally, they showed, in frame, the Doctor and Mike Shinoda. The daleks occupying the command bridge stopped for a short while, and then immediately resumed their peculiar march, surrounding the two hostages who remained stationary, in a terrified expectation.

The dalek commander, wearing a black armour, approached.

“You fell into our trap, Doctor!”

“Don’t celebrate yet. I came here to recover what belongs to me. I do not negotiate under threat. Let Clara and the little lad go.”

“There’s nothing to negotiate, Doctor! You are surrounded! And you are abord a buondabuonda spaceship. It’s very complicated to manoeuvre a buondabuonda spaceship and find the right way out.”

“I just did it, and I found the bridge, dalek.” The Doctor pointed a finger. “Let my friends _go_! I won’t ask you again.”

“Exterminate!”

A bright shot came from the gun attached to the metallic appendix of one of the daleks that was close to the hostages. A blinding explosion happened, hot sparks rained down, the air crackling with the brutal rise of the temperature. Everything occurred with no screams, because it was a sudden attack.

Mike felt a pain in his heart when he realized that Chester had been the target. A column of grey smoke curled up next to Clara, who shrank in horror. Recognizing that something terrible had happened to his friend, Mike remained numb and petrified, stuck inside that half second of incredulous commotion.

The thin cloud dissipated and Chester’s baffled figure appeared, his right hand raised and empty.

“The guitar! He pulverized… my guitar! It could have been… me.”

Then, the world started to move again, and Mike shouted:

“Chester!!”

“Mike!!”

Clara clung to Chester’s waist to prevent him from running towards Mike, and the Doctor’s stretched arm in front of the Japanese had the same purpose. They couldn’t give in to panic, otherwise they wouldn’t escape alive from that room.

The dalek’s commander spun and repeated the order, in a growing irritation:

“Exterminate! Exterminate!”

The Doctor pulled Mike aside, and Clara did the same with Chester. There was a crossfire of lightning, small explosions, rolls of smoke, the metallic voices from the daleks demanding the slaughter of the invaders. The panelled walls with the flashing lights ended up in holes, and helped the chaotic scenery that was confusing the aiming of the guns. There was a hideous noise, between screams and outbursts.

Clara ordered Chester to run. He grabbed her by the hand. Mike appeared next to them and grabbed Chester by the hand too. The three fled across the room, dodging the deadly rays, escaping destruction by millimetres, luckily, instinctively, skilfully.

The Doctor straddled the armour of a dalek and aimed the enemy’s weapon at the attackers, bursting with other daleks, creating a corridor that led directly to the open door. As soon as he noticed that Clara and the two musicians were running for salvation, he pushed the dalek and he ran too. As soon as he went through the door, he pressed the grey button and the door jambs were closed with a hiss.

They were saved.

The four ran a little further to move away from the door that seemed to have locked automatically. On the other side, the daleks continued to shout, possessed, against them, wishing their extermination. When they reached an atrium and realized they were definitely saved because everything was so quiet, they stopped out of breath and tired. Chester leaned against the wall, one hand over his chest, more scared than exhausted. Mike seemed he was going to fall apart at any moment.

The Doctor held his companion’s face in his hands.

“Clara” oh… my Clara!”

“I’m all right, Doctor. We’re all right. We managed to… to escape the daleks.”

“Clara!”

He pressed his lips to hers, in a tender, intense kiss. She closed her eyes and savoured that special moment she was sharing with her beloved Doctor. A shiver in the skin, a warmth in the heart, her soul happy, and she realized all the love that existed between them.

Chester said:

“When you two finish flirting…”

Confused, it was Clara who broke contact with the Doctor, remembering, then, that they weren’t alone to live that little pause when only the two existed in the whole Universe.

The Doctor had his sunglasses on, and no one saw his watered blue eyes due to the emotion of having kissed that woman whom he loved in such a complete way.

“Let’s go back to the TARDIS. Mike.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Talk to the ship.”

“OK… I think I can do it…”

“Remember your friend who’s sick in my ship. And don’t try, lad… don’t try.”

“Yes. The lesson from Yoda.”

“Where have you two been?”, Chester asked, jealously. “You seemed very friendly… you’re even discussing Star Wars…”

Nothing happened and Mike considered that they might be close to where the telephone box was parked. The Doctor observed the silent atrium, nodded with a small grunt, and decided to proceed on foot, choosing the passage at his left. Clara followed him. Chester and Mike did the same. He asked:

“Why are you always angry with the Doctor?”

“I don’t like that old man.”

Mike stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Chazy, we need the Doctor. Only he can save Joe. Please, swallow your pride and accept his command. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Joe, or to you. To none of us. The Doctor is a powerful alien, capable of incredible feats. You saw how he managed to save us from those giant salt shakers… without a gun! And things were very complicated back there. You barely… if it wasn’t for the guitar you were holding, you would be scattered into atoms in this very moment.”

“I also want Joe to get cured. I want to go on stage as soon as possible. I need to go, and sing, and free myself from all these negative energies. I can dismiss all this adrenaline…”

“And as for the Doctor… please, leave him alone. If he wants to kiss Clara, you have nothing to do with it. After all, she’s his companion.”

“Hey, I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“But you made a remark.”

“He also said the same thing when you were…”

“I didn’t kiss you, Chester!”, Mike amended, blushing, resuming the walk. “Behave yourself! That’s just I ask from you. Behave… yourself.”

“OK, Spike. If you’re asking me…”, Chester agreed, putting the hands in his pants pockets. “I’ll do it. I’ll stop messing with the old man. But you know… regarding Joe. The _Doctor_ also needs me, the vibrations of my voice. So, after all, wrapping things up, I’ll be the one who’s gonna save Joe.”

“But you alone won’t know what to do.”

As soon as they turned a corner there was a shout of triumph. The Doctor raised his arms high, and ran towards the blue telephone box that was in the same place where she had landed, in the hall of the strange spaceship that dispensed orders and granted wishes.

Suddenly, the Doctor froze, his boots slid across the smooth floor. Clara had already stopped. Mike recognized who was near the TARDIS and waved happily:

“Dave!”

And then he shut up. Chester wanted to run, but Mike pulled him by the shirt, understanding what he was seeing. It was a reunion with their buddies, but not everything was well. In fact, everything looked incredibly bad.

“Stay here, Chaz! Don’t go any further.”

Chester narrowed his eyes and noticed it too.

“Shit… is that Brad on your lap, Phoenix?”

“Yes, help me! Please!”, the bassist begged.

From the back of the TARDIS, dragging their feet like real zombies, a bubbling green mass glowing on their heads, came Joe… and Rob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are all together, finally, but...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The necessary choice.


	24. The necessary choice

Chester put the hands on his head and shouted in despair:

“Rob’s infected!”

Clara called:

“Doctor!”

Mike said, equally distressed:

“Dave, stay away from them! Get away from Joe and Rob! Come to us. What’s wrong with Brad?”

“He has a fever.”

“No, stay there!”, the Doctor contradicted, arm outstretched, advancing resolutely towards the TARDIS. “I am going to enter my spaceship and nothing, or anyone, will prevent me from doing so. Much less a simple fungus. Clara!”

“I’m with you. I’m right behind you.”

The Doctor passed between Joe and Rob that had, meanwhile, stopped, imitating two pillars of an imaginary gate. Mike was panting as an asthmatic, impressed by the deplorable condition of his friends. Chester was moaning and was biting his knuckles, afraid and angry.

Clara also passed between Joe and Rob, hopping, but neither one, nor the other tried to attack her.

“Doctor?”

“I’m returning to the TARDIS… I have new data I need to analyse.”

She looked worried at Dave, who was carrying Brad in his arms, sweaty and fainted. She looked at the DJ’s and the drummer’s backs, she also looked at Chester and Mike, in the background, livid and shaky.

“And what about them?”

“Them… them who?”, the Doctor asked confused, grabbing the spaceship’s door, with the body half way in.

Clara was exasperated.

“Them, Doctor!!! Mike, Chester, Brad, Dave, Joe and Rob. Linkin Park! Two are infected with the fungus, one is feverish, and the other three are burnt out.”

“Ah! I will soon bring the solution for our problem with this wonderful sound thief fungus. I already know its name!”, he said, proudly. “The daleks made a mistake in revealing the name of the fungus, and I will take advantage of that to solve this mess. We have a music show and a football match to attend. And the Universe to save.”

Clara entered the telephone box furious and disappointed, like a demanding hurricane. He snorted and gritted her teeth.

“You are not going to abandon them”, she ordered, sharply. “We cannot leave them in the middle of this crisis. You may have already found a solution, Doctor, but as for me, the situation is even more desperate and dangerous. Mike looks like is going to lose it, and he is the most rational of his group.”

The Doctor was throwing the sunglasses at a hatch he had opened in the TARDIS console. He pulled a lever and turned to her, a fist at his waist.

“And he is also the smartest. He will know how to handle the crisis.”

“Handle… the… crisis… Are we leaving?! Are we… are you going to abandon them? For the second time, Doctor! You’re going to leave them in a crazy ship in the depths of outer space?”

“Right now, I am dealing with my fundamental tool…”

“What?”

A platform was lifted by means of a hydraulic lift that hummed as it ascended, from the hatch. On top of it were the sunglasses. The Doctor put them on his face and smiled broadly.

“Ah! Perfect!”. The smile turned into a grimace. “Oh, shoot… my browser history was recorded here. Hum, it could be a setback. But as long as no one access the browser history, I think everything will be fine…”

“Doctor? What are you doing?”, Clara asked, confused.

The Doctor announced.

“My _new_ sonic screwdriver is no longer a screwdriver. Style, my dear Clara. Style!”. And he adjusted the glasses over the nose with his index fingers.

“Your sonic screwdriver… is now… is now a pair of sunglasses?”

“I won’t abandon them. Your angry kids.”

The Doctor went around the console, grabbed the handles that commanded the ship’s navigation system. He turned on switches, he pulled a monitor, he pushed a lever. The roof gadget spun, and the ship began to move with her usual sound that indicated a new travel.

Clara screamed.

“What? You are not going to abandon them? That’s what you’re doing right now, Doctor!!! We are moving. The TARDIS is moving!”

He peered at her from behind the monitor.

“I will return.”

“Can you… can you return?”. She howled. She pointed a finger at him. “Stop the TARDIS immediately and return _right now_. It’s an order, Doctor! I _want_ to go to them. I’m not going to stay with you… you… you selfish and silly old man!”

“Why are you so dramatic about it?”, he underestimated with a shrug that was quite offensive. And he went on, ignoring her outburst: “The fungus is called avaza. Now I understand why the TARDIS couldn’t identify it on a first analysis. The avaza creature was a myth of the Azkura people, the first civilization that invented music in the Universe, countless millennia ago. Legend has it that the Azkura began to divide themselves into clans, separated by the sounds each one was creating, and that soon became incompatible. The music of one clan could not be heard by another clan. As the Azkura didn’t know the concept of war, the clans didn’t enter in direct confrontation to destroy themselves. So… they generated the avaza fungi that fed on enemy sound. They grew and multiplied with music that was strange to them, they devoured the opposing clan, and then they passed on to the next clan.”

Clara’s breathing was still altered. The Doctor lowered a second lever. The red and yellow flags hanging from the ceiling flapped with the bump.

“It was just a legend; nobody ever proved the avaza really existed. Do you understand, Clara? It was a bedtime story that was told to the little children, with the moral that we shouldn’t create something that eventually will destroy us. The end of the legend is not a pleasant one. The fungus ended up devouring the entire Azkura people, thus bringing an end to the magnificent creators of the first music in the Universe.”

“Doctor… and what about them?... The boys? They are all alone in a spaceship commanded by daleks”, she whined. She had to cling to the railing to keep from falling to her knees, because she was so weak, sad and angry. “We can arrive… too late. I helped to kill… to destroy… Linkin Park.”

“I trust Mike.”

“You trust Mike?!”

“He’s the leader of the group.”

“They are daleks! What can Mike do against daleks? And against this fungus that feeds on sound?”

“He has a guitar and he is going to use it. Now I… I destroyed mine to go and save you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Another bump and the spaceship stopped.

“We arrived! This is the last piece of the puzzle, and then… the Earth will be saved.”

“Are you going to sacrifice Linkin Park for that?”

The Doctor didn’t answer. He put on his sunglasses, passed by her, pulled her by the hand. He opened the TARDIS door and they went out into the street. Clara couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. She had to open and close the eyelids several times to be sure she wasn’t dreaming, or hallucinating. She leaned on the Doctor to keep from falling.

“We’re back… to Milton Keynes?”

“And we are going to watch the Linkin Park show. I think is that way where we have to catch the bus to the amphitheatre. Let’s go, Clara!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the Doctor doing? Did he really found a solution?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Surviving.


	25. Surviving

The telephone box pulsed to the rhythm of a tangled melody, which was both disconcerting as comforting, a sequence of recognizable and strange sounds conveying memories of forgotten things, pure hope, a grip in the soul that resulted in sad smiles, and also sparkling happiness. Gradually it became invisible with each palpitation, and in a short moment, it disappeared, taking the melody and the box volume with it. The Doctor’s spaceship was gone and, in the corridor, stood the empty space where it had landed. Without leaving any trace that had been there – not the faintest whisper of a smell of fuel, blue ink, or Clara’s perfume.

“Close your mouth, Chaz. You look like an idiot”, Mike asked, seriously.

Chester swallowed saliva, he made a funny noise, like a cartoon.

“That old man…”, he stammered in a daze. “That old man… he left us here!”

“The Doctor must have some plan in mind and he’ll return soon to pick us up.”

“Do you think, Mike?!! Do you really think so?”, Chester exploded. “The old man saw he couldn’t face this threat and abandoned us! He never knows what to do next! He has no plan, and I think he never had, in his long life of many centuries, that even I can’t count!”

Mike grabbed his friend’s shoulders, he shook him.

“Calm down, Chaz! Please, calm down! Don’t think about the Doctor. We have more immediate problems to solve!”

The Japanese’s order was so compelling, his authority so unmistakable, that Chester stiffened and nodded, mouth closed in a line and eyes wide open. They turned their necks at the same time and looked at Joe and Rob, who remained parked in the same place, two menacing statues, their heads covered with a bubbling green mass.

“Hey! I need help over here!!!”, Dave shouted.

Chester shivered with the fright he took.

“Shit, Phoenix! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Cautiously, Mike advanced, step by step, measuring the distant he travelled with extreme care, watching Joe and Rob’s movements. He managed to pass between them without being attacked, or without an attempt to block and to infect him. Chester stayed behind, biting his fingernails, watching him walk, decorating what he was doing to do next. If it had worked for Shinoda, it will work for him too. No sudden movements, much attention because there were predators, no provocative eye contact, and he would not be attacked by the two infected.

“Chester…”

“Yes, Mike?”, he gasped, anxiously.

“Follow me. I think… I think is the guitar. The fungi don’t attack us because I have this guitar.”

“Ah… I also had a guitar!”

“And that’s what saved your life. And now it will be my guitar that is going to save you. Go. They will not harm you.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. but if you stay there… you will be isolated.”

“Ah! Wait for me, man!”

When they reached Dave, it seemed as if they had run a marathon. Chester bent his back, rested the hands on his knees, wiped the sweat from his forehead. Mike leaned against the wall, and his heart was pounding wildly inside the chest. Joe and Rob remained motionless.

To ease his numb arms, Dave put Brad’s feet on the floor, hugged his waist, and put the arm around his shoulders, pulling him by the wrist. The guitarist head swayed, up and down, he gurgled a moan and let himself go, limp. Mike asked:

“How did he end up like that?”

“We went to rescue Joe who had escaped to a moist room. The fungus wanted to hatch. We managed to save Joe, but as soon as we left the room, Brad fell ill. It was something out of nowhere.”

“His hands are dirty”, Chester observed, frowning, still bent. “What does he have in the hands?”

“He got dirty in that room. I think it’s mud. There was a fog that didn’t let us see the floor, but it wasn’t slippery or anything. I have no idea where Brad found mud in a spaceship room.”

“Maybe that’s it, Dave…” Mike commented. “The mud. We have to wash his hands and see if he gets better. And what about Rob? How did he catch the fungus?”

The bassist’s throat moved dramatically and he paled a little more, highlighting the cheek freckles.

“The fungus… deceived us. It made Joe woke up, Rob thought Joe was healed, he got closer to him and… that was it. It’s what you can see. Both have that green crap on them. Back then… we were locked inside an airtight box. Prisoners. But I managed to get out. I don’t even know how… I dissolved the box. That’s how it happened. I _dissolved_ the box. I blinked and we were free. Poof! The box was gone and the corridor returned. We were no longer prisoners. Because it was just me… Brad has a fever. Joe and Rob, well… Joe and Rob…

“We’re fucked”, Chester complained.

Mike scratched the beard on his chin.

“Hum… The best thing we can do is to stay hide while we are waiting for the Doctor’s return. And he will return, Chaz! There is no point in arguing otherwise. There are some very dangerous giant salt shakers that command the ship, that kill everything that moves, and they want to catch the Doctor. They won’t hesitate to use us as bait to set the trap. Therefore, we’ll stay put and, meanwhile, we’ll take care of Brad, and we’ll contain Joe and Rob.”

Chester noticed Dave’s effort. He supported Brad’s weight too, by putting the arm around his shoulders, leaving the guitarist between them. Dave asked, after a short sigh of relief:

“And what do you plan to do?”

“This is a buondabuonda spaceship. It obeys… to our needs and imagination”, Mike explained. “I will _be able_ to find that hideout. It’s just… well, follow me and don’t ask me too many questions, please!”

“Like that thing from Harry Potter?”, Dave said, surprisingly.

“What thing from Harry Potter?”, Chester asked.

“There’s a room that only appeared when you need it. Isn’t there such a room that depends… on our needs and imagination?”

“I don’t know. There is a room like that in Harry Potter?”

“Yes. It doesn’t even appear on that special map that belonged to Harry’s father. This was explained in the last movie.”

“I didn’t know you knew this Harry Potter so well, Dave…”

“I like fantasy stories. I’ve always liked it, man”, the bassist justified, flustered.

“Are you a wizard now, Mike?”, Chester mocked. “Or have you been taking Alice’s pills?”

“What Alice?”

“From Wonderland, Dave!”

“It seems to me you’ve been smoking a joint, man…”

“Me? Oh, right… Chester, the clown at your service! Chester, the usual suspect! Chester, always guilty! Mike says that nonsense shit, you’re reading magic books, and I’m the one on weed just because I mentioned a bedtime story for children.”

“Shup up, you two”, Mike ordered. He snaped the fingers. Joe and Rob turned around, they faced them, waiting for the command to start moving. Chester screamed in alarm and Dave swore. “This way. Come with me… and don’t ask any questions! Please”, he repeated.

They didn’t dare to challenge Mike Shinoda’s wisdom, and the five of them followed the Japanese’s lead, with Brad being dragged by Chester and Dave, the rubber tip of his All Star’s sneakers scraping on the floor, and making an irritating and squeaky noise, Joe and Rob walking at a steady, slow pace.

Mike turned left and stopped at a place that looked like a dead end. He waited for a while, with his eyes closed and, still without seeing, he stretched the arm. His fingertips reached the wall and he pressed. Out of nowhere, a square button appeared where his fingers were, and it entered the wall. There was a click, a gear was turned on and a door opened, retracting to a groove in the lintel, showing a pleasant room that looked like an infirmary.

“Well, I’m not going to _comment_ ”, Chester provoked. “But this shit is really strange! And I don’t believe it’s just because of your guitar, Shinoda!”

Mike smiled at him and winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems Mike found a solution...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> A parallel world.


	26. A parallel world

With the help of the psychic paper, the Doctor and Clara gained privilege access to the back of the stage. They let him pass because he was an inspector for the British Arts and Entertainment Association who was there to investigate whether the licenses were all in order, and if the decibel volume would be complied. They delivered to Clara a folder full of papers and designated a small office sandwiched between partitions, next to the stairs that lead to the stage, equipped with a table and three chairs. In there, they could do all the verifications required with total privacy. The promoters said they were available to answer to all the questions they might have.

As soon as they were alone, Clara left the folder with the documents on the table and followed the Doctor that went up to the stage. They chose a discreet spot, next to one of the metal pillars that supported the light structure, behind a large speaker, and they stood there, watching the busy crowd of assistants who were preparing the place for the artists entrance.

In front of him, and after the limit of the immense platform, a sea of people was jumping and screaming, waiting for the show to begin, in the typical frenzy of noisy musical performances. The audience of a classical orchestra behaved better, or, at least, waited more relaxed in their velvet seats. In a stadium it would be like in there, people excited about what they were going to witness, each section of the stands cheering for their team. In an opera there was also restraint and attention, none of that hysteria and agitation, even when the protagonists died; it happened a lot in operatic stories.

Clara’s voice interrupted his divagation:

“What will happen here, Doctor?”

He looked at his companion and showed her a smile.

“The Linkin Park show in Milton Keynes. Within minutes they will appear and will start the first song of the presentation they had prepared por tonight. Noise, lights, music and amplified voices.”

“Did we go back… in time?”

“Evidently!”

She leaped and clapped her hands, very happy and excited.

“Ah! Did you come here to show me that we _actually_ managed to save the world and cure Joe?”

The Doctor slowly denied it, without breaking that faded smile.

“No, Clara. We are at a parallel dimension where we will see what will happen if we _cannot_ save the world and cure this Joe, who I assume is the unfortunate person who was first infected by the fungus.”

“Ah…”. Clara extinguished her joy, withering like a sunflower at night. “And what purpose does this serve? It will be a torture, Doctor! I warn you. You are going to show me the destruction of the world, all the people converted into the undead, Chester… Mike… poor Brad… all of them…”. She fell silent, horrified, with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to see this.”

She turned to go away. The Doctor’s loving hand in her arm stopped her.

“Clara, I need _to see_ the avaza fungus infection and realize exactly how it works. As I explained to you, they are a legend. The proliferation methods they use are effectively similar to a fungus that exists on Earth, but I need to collect accurate information about how they store and use sound. I can’t just guess why the daleks chose a Rock show. What if they like Jazz music more and this situation is just a decoy? What if at this moment there are other avaza spread across the globe, in concert halls, opera houses and fairs with folk music, and we stumbled upon one of these fungi by chance in a Linkin Park show?”

“All right, all right… got it!”, Clara interrupted, impatiently, trying to fight her emotions. “And how are you going to do your analyses?”

The Doctor pointed at his face, adding more authenticity to his smile, which doubled in size.

“Those… Those sunglasses…?”

“They are perfect and they give me style. I should be careful with my browser history, though.”

“What browser history?”

“You don’t want to know… It was Mike’s idea.”

“The browser history?”

“The sunglasses!”

“You like Mike.”

“Sure. He’s the smartest of the group! Look, Clara… It’s going to start.”

She shivered.

“What’s going to start?”

“Everything, Clara Oswald. Everything. It will be a nightmare with monsters, ruin and suffering. We are here so we can prevent this to happen, in our dimension. This… this is just a simulation, where we can see the mistakes we cannot make. Where we will learn.”

“Yes, Doctor. I understand. However, it’s a simulation too real, and that distresses me.”

The first ones to go on stage were the drummer, Rob Bourdon, and the disc jockey, Joe Hahn. They were walking stiffly, remembering automatons with problems in their artificial joints. At first glance there was no infection on them, there were no visible spots, but when she captured the taller boy’s empty gaze, Clara shivered to the bones by noticing that his irises and pupils were green, but a strange shade of green, highlighted and bright.

Rob sat on the small stool and grabbed the drumsticks. He started to mark the compass with one of the plates. Joe climbed to the podium where his gear was installed, and he turned the plates automatically.

Then, an electric guitar appeared in a furious and incredibly out-of-tune chord. Clara covered the ears with her hands, and looked at the Doctor in disbelief. He was calm, his arms crossed, observing with his usual authoritarian and casual attention, as if everything was important, and as if nothing was worthwhile, between ordinary distraction and extreme concentration.

A second guitar joined the first and the noise they were producing was everything but music. It was an overwhelming cacophony of sound that irritated the hearing of anyone less sensitive. Clara clenched the teeth, but the stray sound hurt her ears with unprecedented force. She saw Brad Delson and Mike Shinoda appeared on stage and the two were moving with the same stiffness as their friends. They were also infected! She screamed, but the noise was so loud that no one listened her scream.

Next, it was Dave Farrell’s turn to appear carrying the bass in an indolent movement, the right hand hanging down and trying to reach the strings, but whenever he tried, the pick between his fingers streaked the emptiness. Head down, a handkerchief covering half of his face, the lethargy indicated that he was another one infected.

Finally, Chester Bennington entered. He tried his usual leaps. He tripped over his legs and he fell with apparatus. He was lying on stage, panting like a wounded animal that was enraged by his wounds. His eyes were fluorescent, alive and restless. And then he laughed. He roared in hight pitched laughs that the incoherent guitars stifled. Rob’s beat was just as scruffy and rough.

The fungus had infected them all.

The audience rose up in a monumental boo. The whistles and the booing were deafening, they created a wall of noise that was struggling with the pathetic and unreal music that the five members of the band Linkin Park were playing on that stage. Clara remained with the hands over her ears, and she divided herself between the laughable spectacle of the musicians, the Doctor’s serenity and the crowd that was astonished because they weren’t receiving what they were expecting.

The sky was being painted with melancholic reds and oranges due to the sunset.

At great cost, Chester stood up. He stretched out his arms in a very dramatic gesture, his face paralyzed in an expression of horror, he walked two steps, he fell again, he grabbed Mike’s leg, who was moving his hand automatically over the guitar strings. Dave oscillated in the same spot, and Brad was showing his teeth, trying to fight what was devouring him from the inside. Joe scratched the mixer table, and Rob was beating the drums and the plates in an apathic way, until fatigue vanquished him, and he fell forward, dragging the drum set that plummeted from the elevated platform where it had been fixed. It was like some kind of a cue to trigger the next action.

The spotlights focused their green lights on a single spot on stage, where Chester and Mike were, to where Brad and Dave were coming. The lights went off. The audience shouted an angry “ _oh!_ ”. And then, a green flush was projected from that central point, falling like a dreadful rain over the first rows. Clara realize that it was fungi, thousands of contaminated bubbles that were invading new hosts.

The people who were attacked stirred with fear. Then they lit up in blue. To conclude the process, they turned to the person next to them, they touched them, and the transmission of the fungus was becoming unstoppable.

Clara was bouncing, impatiently and angrily because she and the Doctor weren’t doing anything to stop that. It was terrifying just to be there watching the disease spreading, and seeing everyone being turned into the undead.

On stage, the out-of-tune music continued and it was growing in intensity and noise, to help the proliferation of the fungus that was fattening, was bubbling, and was reproducing with that rattle of sound. Linkin Park were playing their instruments, unaware of the horrible sound they were producing, bewildered, blind and infected. Except for Rob that was just wavering his arms on automatic gestures, vibrating invisible plates and drums. Except for Chester who was spinning looking for the microphone he had dropped.

“I can’t stand this anymore”, Clara complained.

The Doctor took her hand.

“Wait! It’s almost finished. We are almost at the end of all this…”

She looked at the sky that went dark. She couldn’t say what it was, but a huge mass was covering the sunset light and was letting the world even darker and more dangerous. From the clouds small points appeared that began to descend faster and faster to the ground, shouting their distinct battle cry:

“Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!”

The dalek’s invasion of the Earth had begun. Its killer rays decimated the back rows of the public. The amphitheatre became chaotic, with people that were still healthy realizing, finally, what was happening and wanting to run for their lives. Clara pulled the Doctor’s hand, but he didn’t move. Angrily, she gave a second and stronger tug. She let go of his hand, tripped and fell backwards. She hit her head on an equipment box and she passed out. The Doctor, realizing that his companion had passed out, called in distress:

“Clara!”

A grumpy voice came over the hellish noise.

“If this wonderful spectacle was provoked by you, then I must warn you that you left me quite impressed. I would never expect such a mess with your signature. Not even I have that much imagination… avaza fungi from the Azkura? Absolutely legendary!”

The Doctor turned and exclaimed:

“Missy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now... he have Missy too!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> In a sanctuary.


	27. In a sanctuary

Mike locked the only door that gave access to the infirmary – after a short assessment of the place, he decided that the room would, in fact, be an infirmary. He indicated one of the stretchers and asked Dave and Chester to put the guitarist there. He approached a table situated in the middle of the room and extended the hands over it. He left them hovering for a while, and then a panel with digital buttons and a menu with several choices came up. All surprisingly written in English. He smiled. It was happening because he _wanted_ that to be happening. If he wasn’t a space wizard, he was close to be one… Well, with a little help from the buondabuonda technology that derived from the Timelord’s technology, and he worked miracles.

He looked up and noticed Joe and Rob motionless near the closed door that, after being locked, disguised itself in such a way on the wall that it hid the fact that there was an exit there. The two infected by the parasitic fungus continued to respect his authority, fixing an opaque and dark gaze on the electric guitar he was carrying, the greatest symbol of that authority.

He briefly navigated the menu presented to him on that digital table with touchscreen – a pretty advanced thing that left him excited and curious. He had always loved technological advances and new gadgets!

He took a deep breath, appeasing the joy that would be very misplaced there.

He pressed a bar. He typed a numeric code that appeared in a small window. A platform came in on his left side – on his right side were the stretchers. He snapped his fingers and made an assertive gesture with the arm. Joe and Rob obeyed and went up to the platform. Mike pressed a second bar, which was blinking in red. Two transparent glass tubes grew from the floor, attached to the ceiling, and wrapped the two men. A whitish jet filled the small round chamber of gas, and Joe and Rob fell asleep. They stood up, with their heads hanging, leaning against the glass.

“Damn! How can you do these things?!”, Chester said with admiration. “You’re Mike, right? You’re _our_ Mike… the Shinoda one. Right?”

Mike abandoned the table.

“Now, let’s take care of Brad. Yes, it’s me, Mike. Do I look so different?”

“The problem is that you look exactly like the Mike we know, and you can be deceiving us.”

Dave intervened:

“Aren’t you going to do everything from that table? Apparently, it seems to be a useful tool that controls this rooms and everything what’s inside here. You can even get medication. The surprises never end, hum?”

“It we’re gonna need medication, I will use the table. Maybe I can find the ideal pills to cure Brad. Let’s first wash his hands, remove this hard layer of dry dirt, and see what happens. To begin with, I used the table to find a solution to contain Joe and Rob. They can harm us and infect us, even if they were on their right mind, they wouldn’t never do so. And I also put them inside there to relieve them… they are suffering, you know?”

“Shit…”, Chester muttered. He approached the glass tubes and observed the two friends suspended in an imposed sleep. He frowned. “And what about now? They are not suffering anymore?”

“No, they aren’t suffering, Chaz. The table confirmed that they are now sleeping, and that they are better in this state of unconsciousness. They aren’t feeling anything now. Therefore, they aren’t suffering.”

“All right. Great… dude.”

Dave had a metal basin in his hands filled with water. In his arms he was carrying towels. Chester whistled.

“Hey, man… where did you get that?”

“Back there is a bench equipped with a sink and taps. On the shelves I found flasks and towels, cloths, bandages, disinfectant, band aids, scissors, and everything you might need to provide first aid. It was you who made all those things appear, Mike?”. He winked.

“No, I think the bench was already there.”

“There are also toilets, next to the bench.”

“For taking a dump in emergency mode?”, Chester laughed, rubbing his tummy.

“No, to ease a stomach pain”, Dave said. “Connection to a sewer system where we can discard the crap that we are about to clean from Brad’s hands.”

“Do you want to go to the toilet, Chaz?”, Mike teased, with a half-smile.

“No. With all these last-minute emotions, I don’t even want to take a piss… But I feel hungry… I would bite something by now. Do a magic trick and summon a bowl of fruit, Mike.”

“Or chocolates.” Dave added.

“Yes, anything sweet and caloric. We should have low sugar levels.”

“If you look, you’ll find what you want. The _magic_ doesn’t belong to me. You can also do it, according to the Doctor’s explanation. We are refugees in this room and, from that fact, the room… obey us.”

Mike grabbed a towel and dipped it in the water from the basin that Dave, meanwhile, had put on a plated cart, very similar to those used in the best American private clinics. At that stage, no one was asking how the accessories, the instruments, anything indispensable were emerging, in the same way that no one asked where Chester had found the green apple he was eating, with his mouth full of the juicy fruit, delighting him, and he added that there were also the chocolates the bassist asked for.

Carefully, for they didn’t want to touch the strange dirt, Mike and Dave washed Brad’s hands. They removed the crust, using wet towels, and deposited them, after they being used, in a second basin that Chester had fetched from the bench. The guitarist’s breathing was irregular, he was still with a high temperature and was sweating profusely. However, as soon as Mike and Dave dried his hands with a last towel, he exhaled for a long time and calmed his moans.

Chester tossed the half-eaten apple into the waste bowl.

“He’s getting better… don’t’ you think?”, he said, anxiously.

“Yes, Chaz”, Dave agreed. “Look, he’s recovering the colour on the cheeks.”

Mike also leaned over the patient. He called:

“Brad? Do you hear us? How do you feel?”

In an instinctive gesture, he caressed his sticky and transpired forehead.

“Brad?”

“I am so terribly thirsty… “, the guitarist whispered, in a hoarse and tired voice.

Chester returned with a glass and a bottle of mineral water. He shrugged when questioned by Dave’s silent doubt, who was widening his eyes, and was asking him where did he found all that. He pointed to a large table with fruit bowls, trays furnished with chocolates and a row of water bottles, accompanied by a pyramid of glass cups.

It was Mike who gave Brad the water, supporting his head and bringing the full glass to his lips. Dave put his fists on the stretcher.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

“Fuck… I was in trouble”, the guitarist admitted. “It seemed I was on fire.”

“You had a bad fever.”

“How did I get sick?”

“You don’t remember what happened before you got sick?”

“Hum…”. Brad closed his eyes. “We went for Joe. Me, you and Rob. I fell. I got my hands dirty. And then… I don’t remember anything else.”

“That shit is contaminated!”, Chester indicated in a panic. “We better get rid of that mud that was on Brad’s hands! Mike, get rid of that trash.”

Mike grabbed the basin and asked:

“Calm down, Chester. As long as you don’t touch this crap, nothing will happen to you. Dave and I were cleaning this on Brad, and we’re fine.”

“Oh… Mike and Chester are here”, Brad noticed. “And where are Clara and the Doctor?”. He sat on the stretcher and hesitated, due to a dizziness.

“Don’t make any efforts if you’re not fully recovered”, Dave recommended, supporting his back with one hand.

The guitarist shook his head.

“I’ll be all right in a moment… I’m feeling much better. Where are we? Ah!!”

He screamed when he saw Joe and Rob inside the tubes, dormant and infected with the fungus. He deducted that fact because of the green helmets that covered part of their hair. He looked at Dave and demanded:

“Come on, start telling me what happened during the period I was sick and in a blackout.”

The bassist cleared his throat.

“Well, Joe is in the same condition, Rob’s infected, I was carrying you around, Chester was almost disintegrated, and Mike became a wizard. I was with you, with Rob and Joe locked inside a box that appeared from nowhere and that it went to nowhere. Therefore, we escaped, chased by Joe and Rob. The Doctor and Clara went away, and took the TARDIS with them. And this spaceship is being commanded by some giant salt shakers.”

Chester added:

“But we have toilets, chocolates and fruit. And we aren’t gonna die of thirst.”

Brad blinked, confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they all seemed protected inside that room...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Going back to the beginning.


	28. Going back to the beginning

The Doctor and Missy were looking at each other. Behind them, composing a scenario of catastrophe, chaos and destruction, the invasion of the Earth continued, enhanced by the infection of the humans by the strange fungus that controlled their bodies and, ultimately, all their vital functions. The crowd, that was there to watch an entertaining show provided by a Summer festival, was now a mourning mass of anesthetized and zombified people. There were also scattered piles of corpses, the unfortunate ones who had been murdered by furious daleks who continued to invoke the extermination of the human race in their well-known battle cry.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had been disintegrated during that madness with the rise of the new Cybermen army”, the Doctor commented, harshly, disdainfully, contemptuously. And when he said it, he grimaced, twisting the corner of the lips. The woman would have seen his implacable look, if it weren’t for the sunglasses that were now sonic.

“Oh, darling!”, she exclaimed with that Victorian grace that now adorned her, disguising her dangerous nature among laces, silks and buttons. “I think you are well aware that we are in a parallel dimension. Everything that happens here won’t be reflected in _our_ Universe.” She pointed her hand palm up, indicating all that was going on after the stage. “Look at this mess… The debacle and the sloppiness get into my nerves. I hate things poorly done, and this dalek invasion is, certainly, a thing very poorly done. Do not offend me by wanting me to be associate with _this_.”

The Doctor shrugged.

“I don’t care what you think or what you don’t think, my dear.”

He remembered Clara and went to her. He crouched down and found her unconscious, next to the box where she had hit her head. He called her, rubbing her cold hand.

Missy peered at him.

“Oh… you keep your little pet. It’s still that insignificant little woman. Why do you cling to these inferior beings and insist on traveling with them? They are so fragile, so… disposable.”

He didn’t’ answer to her, because if he did, he would be feeding her provocations and all he wanted less, in that deafening and confusing moment, was to start an argument with the woman.

As Clara wasn’t showing any sign that she would wake up soon, the Doctor carried her in his arms. He stood up. The histrionic music Linkin Park insisted on playing stopped abruptly. Someone had disconnected the sound system, by pulling the main cable that linked the speakers to the electricity, to anything. The music was not being vomited by the amplifiers and the sound system, that was for certain. The musicians, however, kept on playing, unaware of whether they were being heard or not. Their green eyes reflected, ghostly, the death rays poured by the daleks.

“Are you going to leave this party?”

“Missy, _this_ is an alternative dimension and I’ve seen everything I had to see. And I don’t intend to dwell… in your company. Return… to wherever you are now.”

“Oh! You are going to leave me in the middle of this war.”

“You won’t be in trouble, Missy! You love… conflicts.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m leaving.”

“I already know that, darling”, she said, impatiently. “What are you going to do with what you saw here, in this alternative dimension? Oh!, I liked that fancy term. _Alternative_ dimension. So… elegant. So… mysterious. You are making a mystery of everything. It has to do with the avaza fungus from the Azkura. It seems to me, hum…” She pretended to be thinking, putting a finger on her chin and rolling her eyes. “It seems to me that in the _right_ dimension you are dealing with a similar plague, and you wanted to come here to see the final result, if you let the events to develop. Lacking solutions, Doctor? This is so fun!” She laughed at this exclamation.

The Doctor sighed.

“You are very well informed, Missy. You don’t need my enlightenment. I should be asking what are you doing here… and how did you escape the Cyberman disintegration.”

“My secrets! You will not intend to unveil the secrets from a lady… that’s so rude.” She made an upset gesture. “Oh!, I was just passing by and I recognized the presence of your dear TARDIS. One day I will keep you ship. Didn’t I tell you?”

“One day, you are going to be, with me, in my TARDIS, and we will be traveling together. So, you can never be out of my sight, Missy.”

The woman laughed again.

“But without those horribly fragile companions! I do not mix with the rabble. I like your sunglasses, darling.”

“Goodbye, Missy. Take care.”

The destruction continued. The horror of the extermination, the fire of the explosions, the unstoppable contamination, people falling on this huge battlefield, the world being devasted from a minimum event that would spread wildly, until it covered the whole Earth with the same sounds and smells of an unspeakable tragedy. Clara was right. It was very hard to watch that, even if it was in another dimension.

Missy understood that he was walking away. She stopped him, standing in front of him. She was now serious and threatening.

“I can take a sample of the avaza fungus and blackmail you later. It’s an interesting creature that likes sound a lot, specially music. And you also like music. Let’s say that it seems like an excellent enemy for the Doctor. A fungus that devours what you love the most. You found so much of that across the immense Universe…”

“It won’t work, Missy. Save your efforts.”

“Ah! You _know_ how to defeat the fungus!”

“Goodbye, Missy”, the Doctor repeated.

“Tell me!”, she asked with more joy that would be suitable for that occasion. “Tell me what you found out about the avaza.”

“The fungi are also able to parasitize a Timelord. Be careful where you are going to touch, Missy.”

“Oh… I am not going to give you that happiness… Doctor. To be infected by a stupid fungus so you can come for my aid”, she replied, pretending to be offended. “But! But… but…”

“Go on.”

“But I will not follow your advice to be careful where I touch. I love to experiment with my limits and to touch things with the warning that I’m not supposed to touch them. It’s so exciting! And I may want to know, from my own experience, how an avaza fungus works. They are just a legend. Watching them to operate is a unique opportunity.”

“The daleks are another danger that you should avoid in this dimension. If you still want to do scientific tourism here.”

“Scientific tourism… that’s curious.”

“I wish you good luck.”

“Oh, you break both of my hearts.”

“What’s the reason?”

“You are going to say goodbye… for the third time today.”

“Effectively.” The Doctor said it again: “Goodbye, Missy.”

Without prolonging that conversation that had no purpose at all, the Doctor left the stage on a hurry. The six Linkin Park members continued their phantom performance, arms soft, heads dangling, legs uneven. They were pitiful, but the Doctor didn’t want to linger on that evaluation.

He went down the stairs that led to the ground level, carrying Clara. The racket was also in the backstage, with people running wild amid explosions and hot shots. He dodged people and lightning, inert bodies and debris, protecting Clara and thinking, with a certain intransigence that was characteristic of him, that he would not tolerate the repetition of these events in his Universe.

Missy didn’t follow him, and he entered the TARDIS knowing that the future was going to be rewritten, once again, with his winning signature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missy appearence had no consequences. Good! Let's return to Linkin Park, and see what they are doing...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Time passes so slowly.


	29. Time passes so slowly

Chester was walking from wall to wall inside the infirmary, unable to stand still. He had rested for a few minutes on a chair. He had tried one of the stretchers, but the memory of his hospital stays, in the past, made him to get up shortly afterwards. He went to look at the sweets bowl, and he didn’t find anything there that prompted his gluttony. And, finally, bored with the wait and the idleness, he started to go around the room. He confessed that for each turn he completed, there was one more detail added, a piece of furniture, things that changed places, as if the room itself was haunted. Novelties, shifts, evident or subtle, it was like a game. A constant battle with the imagination. He complained that everything was too intense, inside.

“I thought you liked those crazy things”, Mike observed eating grapes. He was outstretched in a white sofa, the legs crossed by the ankles, laying down on a pile of cushions, imitating a proper Caesar. “I bet in a room like this, you’d never get bored.”

“I’m bored.”

“You are hard to please, man. These grapes are delicious.”

“Do you think it’s safe to eat that food?”, Dave asked suspiciously. With arms crossed, he was still seated next to the stretcher where Brad was resting. The guitarist had the hands behind his head, watching the ceiling, with a half-smile in his lips. The bassist had not yet tasted anything that was being offered to them in the trays, plates and bowls that now were covering the table, in an eclectic display of various delicacies.

“Chaz is still fine”, Brad commented.

“Of course it’s safe to eat what’s in this room”, Mike said. “This food was brought here by us, through our mind. The spaceship responds to our needs, as in your book of the little English wizard, Dave.”

“I was talking about the movie… not the book”, Dave growled. He cleared his throat. “Even so, I prefer not to take the chance.”

“There’s no risk involved”, Chester said. “The apple that I ate tasted just like any apple on Earth. Because these apples and these grapes are not from Earth. Right, Mike?”

“Of course they are from Earth! We don’t know any others. Therefore, we only know how to _think_ in food we are used to. Logically, everything here… is earthly. Look at the chocolates. They are all of well-known brands, identical to those that we can find in our dressing rooms, before we go on stage.”

“I should eat one of these chocolates. But I think the sugar will make me more agitated.”

“Calm down, Chazy.”

“I’m calm! And I’m also bored.”

“We already know that, buddy.”

Dave saw Brad sat on the stretcher and uncrossed his arms.

“Hey, man. What are you doing?”

“Just relax, Phoenix. The dizziness had passed and I’m feeling much better. You’re released from your function as a nurse. Mike?”

“Do you want to eat something, Brad? Dave, take one of these trays to Brad. Or do you want to drink? You should hydrate yourself. You’ve been with a fever for a long time, sweating like hell, and you lost a lot of fluids. If you don’t eat, at least drink some generous glasses of water. Don’t think about another drink, nothing hydrates more than water. Dave, give him a bottle.”

“Mike, where did you find that guitar?”

Dave and Chester smiled at each other.

“Hum… you’re definitely cured if you notice the guitar”, Mike said amused. He chewed the last grape and swallowed it. He wiped his mouth to a napkin he had pun on his chest, so he wouldn’t get dirty, although it was impossible for someone to get dirty while eating grapes. “I got it in the vivarium where the fungi are being raised for the invasion of the Earth.”

“Shit! There is a vivarium?!”, Dave said, startled.

“Chester was also there, in this vivarium.”

“Hum-hum. It’s a scary place, I can tell you.”

Dave served Brad a big glass of water, who drunk it fast.

“And the guitar works?”, he said, asking the bassist to refill the glass.

“Well… it did work. It’s a real electric guitar and produces music through the resonance box and its strings. The Doctor and I played a basic Punk, and the fungi loved the sound waves we made. Yes, before you ask, the Doctor also plays music and he does it very well. My idea to invite him to play with us on the show is still on.”

Chester snorted, annoyed.

“Can I try it?”, Brad asked, shy.

“Of course!”

Mike held out the guitar that Brad, coming in a bounce from the stretcher, grabbed with a beautiful kindness. His smile was sincere and vulnerable when he snuggled it, after putting the strap over his head. The fingers of the left hand moved slowly over the strings, while the right hand ones stroked the six strings, one by one, next to the pickups.

His distraction has cut in half when he had his two hands captured by Mike’s. The Japanese asked him:

“Don’t play, Brad. Please. The fungi like sound, and they love the vibration of an electric guitar chord. Maybe that’s why they appeared in our dressing room and infected Joe this afternoon. Do you understand? They would use _our_ sound, _our_ music to begin the contamination of humans, and they started with our friend. nd Joe and Rob are over there, with the fungus in their system. The glass tube is containing them, it gives them some rest and prevent them to hurt us, but I don’t know if it can protect them from sound.”

“Come on, Mike! What a crazy thing to say, man!”. And Brad smiled. “This guitar won’t work. It’s not connected to an amplifier. If I played it, you won’t hear a thing.”

“ _That_ is not a normal guitar. Believe me. If you play it… we’ll hear sound.”

“That’s scary”, Dave muttered.

“You bet”, Chester agreed. “We can be safe in this room… and he can also be in a horrible shitty situation, and we are just fooling ourselves.”

Mike turned to them, releasing the guitarist’s hands.

“We are safe here”, he said in a tone of unquestionable authority. “I make it so. While we are waiting for the Doctor, nothing bad will happen to us here. But we must take care and not create unnecessary bad luck.”

“Thank you, daddy Shinoda. Hey, Dave! You started again to use your elbows on me, man?”

“Always talking when you shouldn’t, Bennington.”

“Ouch… You like to be a daddy too, Farrell.”

“You’re the one who has a lot of children.”

“Ah ah.”

Chester walked away. He stopped in front of the glass tubes where Joe and Rob were dormant. He observed them, intrigued, worried and curious, hands in his waist. He frowned as he narrowed his eyes, moved the lips, ran the tongue over his teeth.

“I could use my voice… maybe I’ll cure them.”

“The Doctor said the fungus had learned to like your voice”, Brad remembered.

“Chaz, don’t do anything. They’re fine”, Mike said.

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Chaz, maybe it’s not necessary”, Dave added.

He didn’t mind his friends’ advice. He filled the rib cage with air. A very deep inspiration. He prepared the diaphragm. He concentrated himself. He opened his mouth and screamed. One of those powerful, visceral, intense, prolonged screams, capable of creating earthquakes and driving away high clouds.

The glass of the tubes started to crack.

“Chaz! Stop!”, Mike demanded, stretching an arm.

The green helmets clung to Joe and Rob’s heads darkened, shrunk and fell. Just as it had happened when Chester had screamed for the first time, in the dressing room. However, the hosts reacted differently now. His eyes opened excessively. Dave and Mike jumped, scared, as they noticed Joe and Rob’s irises and pupils of an intense and dangerous green. Brad reached for Chester and pulled him by the shirt.

“Get out of there!”

“They woke up…”

With two punches, both Joe and Rob broke the glass and got free of their tubular prison. They smiled diabolically and extended their arms towards the four men, paralyzed by surprise and fear.

“Do something, Mike! Go to that console with buttons!”, Dave said hysterically.

“I can… I can try. But you have to distract them. They are different. Chaz’s scream made something to them that made him more aggressive”.

“Hey, Joe! It’s me. I’m Chazy!”

“Rob, buddy. Can you recognize me? Look, I’m with a guitar”, said Brad, trembling.

“Don’t try to be reasonable with them. They are dominated by the fungi”, Mike warned.

Dave wavered his hands to get their attention.

“This way! This way!”

“I didn’t want to do that. I wanna help them!”

“We know that, Chaz. Calm down!”

“Fuck, Mike! I’m very guilty and I’m feeling bad.”

“Don’t lose your temper. Calm down! Brad, grab Chaz.”

“Chaz!”

“Let me go, Brad. If you want to infect someone, come for me. Leave Dave! I am the one who caused this shit.”

“This way!”, Dave insisted. “This way! Come after me! Come on, your fucking fungi. See if you can catch me.”

He raised the fists and prepared to defend himself against them with punches, if the two infected became more insistent and violent. Mike was already by the table console and was navigating through the menus, hasty, sliding his index finger across the touchscreen. Chester was howling, with Brad holding him with an arm around his waist. Joe and Rob were moving slowly, persistently, with those green eyes fixed on Dave who was waving his arms next to his face, like a boxer.

Suddenly, the lights in the room went out. It was total darkness.

“Mike!!!”

And after this frightened scream from Chester, silence fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are in trouble now!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The first counterattack.


	30. The first counterattack

“Doctor!!!!”

Clara woke up in a suffocated distress. She sat down breathing so fast, her heart beating so wildly, that she felt the need to put both hands on her chest to calm down the inner turmoil.

She looked around and found herself on the floor of the TARDIS. On the hard floor of the TARDIS, and she got angry, because it was an immense lack of respect that she was lying there, discarded like any… She clenched her teeth. Like any useless thing that we let go where we dropped it!

She got up and smooth her wrinkled skirt. The Timelord was busy with the ship’s navigation. Distracted with the console levers, he was dividing his attention between monitors and several switches, his face illuminated by different colours, from orange, to blue and white.

“Doctor!”

“Hello, Clara Oswald”, he said without looking at her.

“What was I doing on the floor?”. And resentfully she pointed to the place where she had awakened.

“We left in a hurry. I didn’t have time to find a soft mattress.”

“And you dump me… as soon as you entered the TARDIS.”

“If you already know that what’s happened, there’s no point in asking me. Yes, I confirm. _I dumped you_ as soon as we entered the TARDIS.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Very well, Clara Oswald.”

She crossed her arms. She snarled, flustered, and stamped her foot.

“It was very impolite of you. I had a horrible dream because I was sleeping on the cold, uncomfortable floor.”

That phrase caught the attention of the Doctor who tilted the body a little to the left and peered at her, intrigued.

“You said… a horrible dream.”

“Yes, a nightmare”, Clara explained, with a touch of pedantry. “That’s the definition of a horrible dream. The Earth was being attacked by furious daleks firing indiscriminately at a crowd that was trying to escape the contamination by the fungi that attacked Joe Hahn from Linkin Park. There were… there were hundreds of dead and you didn’t do anything. I was desperate, I wanted to help those people, but you won’t let me!”

The Doctor left the console. He came to her. He searched her face, with such eagerness that she bent her back to escape that intense scrutiny that made her uncomfortable. She protested, in a weak tone:

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He said:

“It wasn’t a nightmare, Clara Oswald. You were effectively on Earth during a violent dalek invasion.”

“W-what? It’s not possible… it wasn’t real.”

“No, it wasn’t real”, the Doctor agreed walking away. He turned a handle, and there was a bump, and a squeak, followed by a shrill whistle. The peculiar spaceship arrived at her destination. “It was an alternative dimension. Missy was there, attracted by the scission of the worlds, by the destruction of paradigms, by the interruption of timelines. She is now wandering between universes, following my trail. We said goodbye and we will meet again… in _this_ dimension. When another tear in the fabric of the ages occurs.”

“Missy! You found… Missy?!”, Clara resented.

“Or rather, she found me. Now I know that I’ll have to be careful, so that she never loses me out of sight. It’s dangerous to leave her at large, even as a traveller lost between dimensions. We don’t know what kind of damage she can cause. We arrived.”

“You should have brought her with you.”

“My authorization to stay on that dimension was expiring, and I had to made a choice. You or Missy. I think I decided correctly.”

The Doctor went down the stairs and disappeared into the shadows of the ship’s lower platforms. The lights went dimmed and the interior turned to a faint blue that blurred the outlines of the corners, the furniture and the console itself, the mechanism smoothly ticked. They had arrived, so the Doctor had said.

Clara forced herself to swallow, although her mouth felt terribly dry. She rubbed the chest with her fingertips. She thought she was calmer. But she still felt disoriented and with the head empty. She stretched the index fingers of both hands, pointing them to the ceiling. She organized her mind.

“So… I didn’t dream? The dalek invasion, with the help of a fungus, existed… but in another dimension? In theory, dreams belong to a different dimension from reality, therefore, my brain, to be able to absorb everything that I experienced, lived, seen, smelled and felt, may have thought that in order to stay healthy, it had to convert all of that in a dream. My theory has some truth in it. Don’t you agree, Doctor? It was my mind that transformed the event into a dream. Anyway, I still remember that event with some difficulty… as if it was a dream. If it wasn’t so, maybe… maybe I would have lost it.”

“You also hit your head and lost consciousness!”. The Doctor’s voice sounded distant; he was inside some lower compartment. “It could have been the blow.”

“Yes, it could. I hit my head? I don’t remember that part. Hum…” She shouted in astonishment. “What are you going to do?”

The Doctor was with his electric guitar connected to the portable amplifier he was carrying by the handle, in his left hand.

“Are you awake, Clara Oswald?”

“I think so. Well, I’m awake. I feel awake, Doctor. What are you going to do with the guitar?”

“Can you remember where we were before we went to your nightmare?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare, Doctor”, she said, offended. “We already defined that was my mind…”

“Do you remember, Clara Oswald?”

“We were…”

She made an extraordinary effort to remember. It was hard, it was as hard as describing the dream and the horror she had witnessed. A sting in her left temple and she massaged the skin with her fingertips. She closed her eyelids, she frowned, it was like as she was squeezing his brain to get a few drops of memory.

“We were… on a spaceship, at one end of the Milky Way. We left Chester and Mike and the others on that spaceship and left. Why did we leave?”

“The travel we made affected your brain waves. Definitely. The diagnosis is undeniable. But everything will be solved after the music.”

“You are going to play.”

“Yes, Clara Oswald”, the Doctor agreed, arrogantly, a wide smile on his face. “I’m going to play and it will be quite necessary. We have the Earth to save, we must stop the daleks and their irritating ambition, we need to destroy the alien fungus, we are going to save your friends so they can go and perform at Milton Keynes, a show to be engraved in the glorious terrestrial musical History. And also, to prevent the fungus from devouring you.”

She got scared. She screamed. She ran the hands over her body, turning from side to side, tiptoeing, distressed, disgusted, angry, vulnerable.

“The fungus? Am I infected?!”

“You are infected”, he confirmed, emotionless. “Your disorientation and your hesitation between what it’s a dream and what it’s real is one of the symptoms. It is a small infection, which occurred by air, not by direct contact, otherwise you would be drooling like that Joe Hahn. Small, almost invisible spores have entered your system and the disease spreads gradually, using your bloodstream. Let’s not spread it any longer, and in a few minutes, you’ll recover your sharpness of mind.”

The TARDIS door opened. On the other side was an opaque darkness, so dense that it was possible do grab it. And there was an equally dense and closed silence. The Doctor went out convinced of his invulnerability, knowing the ground where his feet tread with determination. Clara clung to the door, watching what she could see, trying to hear any sound. There was a distant rumble of screams and voices. She listened to it better, but she couldn’t identify the origin or the location of those sparse echoes.

“Where… where are we?”, she whispered. “Did we return to the spaceship? Everything looks so different. Disconnected. Doctor… where are you?”

She stretched out an arm, and her hand was lost in the blackness. She immediately retracted her hand, because the air was icy and sticky.

Musical notes vibrated in the dark. The triumphant melody split the night like a sharp tool that carried light on its edge. Clara recognized the chords – the beginning of the first movement of the fifth symphony by Ludwig van Beethoven, and it was the Doctor who was playing it on the strings of his electric guitar, that sounded magnificent in that claustrophobic scenario.

And with the music, the veil that closed everything was torn, and Clara heard Chester’s scream.

“Mike!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is back!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The music echoing among the stars.


	31. The music echoing among the stars

Music. An electric guitar.

He identified that beginning. It was a very famous classical piece, recognizable all over the world. Those first notes were enough, and everyone would start to sing – even though the music had no lyrics, people used to murmur the melody, and there was a sense of victory. The soul filled with joy and confidence.

And that was what Mike Shinoda felt when he heard the music being played suddenly, coming from nowhere, on an electric guitar. Ludwig van Beethoven’s fifth symphony!

He stretched out an arm, feeling the emptiness, blind because the lights went out in the room. He took two steps forward and found him.

“Chester! I’m here, buddy!”

He pulled him, hugging him from behind.

“I’m here…”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Brad! Someone is playing Beethoven’s fifth on an electric guitar. And I think it can only be one person…”

“Who?”

A voice roared in the dark, between two chords.

“Precisely!”

Everyone stopped breathing, stopped moving and even stopped thinking. A spotlight appeared to illuminate, in a bright cone of white light, a high platform where the Doctor was playing his Fender Stratocaster guitar connected to a rudimentary amplifier, which was producing a monumental, clear and contagious sound.

Under his arm, Mike felt Chester shudder, and hugged him tighter to comfort him and to reassure him. He blinked to accustom his eyes to the shadows that begin to stand out in the dark, due to the wisps of clarity generated by the light projector that highlighted the Doctor, while he continued to play, majestically, the first movement of Beethoven’s fifth symphony. Dave was dumfounded looking at the platform, Brad was diligently protecting the guitar he was holding. Joe and Rob had parked in a stupor, their static posture influenced by the sound the fungi were surely robbing, full of greed.

“Brad! You are going to play with the Doctor!”, Mike exclaimed, understanding what was happening.

“I’m going to play…?”

“You have the guitar. Play!”

“Play what? Are you sure you’ll hear anything if I play? I don’t have an amplifier, dude.”

“Play… You are going to show us your virtuosity.”

“My… what?”

“When the Doctor finishes, you must absolutely continue. The line of sound can’t be broken.”

“Mike, are you sure what you’re asking?”, Chester said.

“Shush, Chaz… You’ll have to trust me.”

“Once again.”

“Yes, once again. Fuck! I didn’t ask for this position of responsibility, but I don’t want things to go wrong by negligence. Brad! You are going to play a piece of classical music. You hear me? Classical. Music.”

The guitarist gasped.

“Are you sure? I…Well, I think…”. The guitarist hesitated.

“You know how to play classical music, Brad! Yes, you do. I’ve heard you playing a few Beethoven’s tunes in the guitar”, Dave encouraged.

“It’s Rob who plays that shit on the piano!”, Brad corrected, continuing to falter. “Beethoven and all that crap.”

“Remember Rob! That’s it, buddy. Remember Rob, he’s needing _your_ help.”

“You’ll have to play more than a few tunes, Brad, buddy!”, Chester said, punching the air. “You’re gonna show to that old man that you play better than him!”

“Fuck, Chaz”, Mike said, angrily. “This is not a competition. The Doctor returned to save our lives and it will happen with classical music. A duet, and one of the guitars will be from this magic spaceship.”

“I hope you’re right”, Brad said and he took a step forward.

Wide staircases appeared, made up of stacked boxes and Brad climbed them with determination. He joined the Doctor on the platform. The cone of light widened to include the two musicians.

“The music can’t stop”, the Doctor said. “When I give the signal, you begin. And believe me… your guitar will sound like mine and without being connected to an amplifier.”

“Right”, Brad agreed, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue. “I’m ready. Pass me the ball whenever you want, Doctor.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes! I’m gonna play by ear… I’m remembering those scholarly shit Rob used to play in the studio, at the piano, pretending he didn’t know us because we were some low-level Rock musicians, and he was a pianist who gave concert shows at the New Your Met, and stuff like that.”

“Very interesting. But completely useless for the present case.”

The Doctor pulled out a last chord from his guitar, the arm describing a wide bow, in the best style of a Rock band musician. Brad started to play without missing a note.

Chester nudged Mike.

“I think… I think it’s Mozart”, the Japanese said.

In fact, Brad was playing the famous theme by the Austrian composer, _Eine kleine Nachtmusik_. The Doctor shifted the weight from one leg to the other. He was smiling with optimism, grace and majesty. He combed his grey har with the hand that was holding the pick. He shook his head and Brad gave him back the limelight.

Bach and his infamous _Tocata e Fuga_ followed in an explosion of energy and defiance that made Chester screamed in awe. The old man played the guitar very good! Mike nudged him again, asking him to shut up and let the show go on. Dave approached them. He had his fists clenched, his arms bent by the elbows, and he was staring at the Doctor’s crazy show with astonished perplexity. He admitted that he wasn’t understanding what the purpose was. Mike shrugged, and said that they had to wait. Something was going to happen. And it involved music, sound. Everything was just fine.

Brad entered with his guitar again and, although there was a slight hesitation, he played with impeccable concentration the Winter movement from Antonio Vivaldi’s _Four Seasons_. The air became warm and clear, the darkness was dissolving gradually and the black was becoming a comfortable grey.

It was again the Doctor’s turn, who chose the exuberance of Richard Wagner’s _Cavalcade of the Valkyries_. He tugged at the strings and was playing chords between dominance and anger, much like a Punk register, that made Chester jump and clap, excited with that show that was talking directly to the ears of the gods of music.

Brad didn’t leave his own merits astray, and after another signal from the Doctor he started to play Rossini’s _William Tell Overture_ , jumping to follow the frantic music he was producing with his magical guitar. He was looser, more confident, happier, the chords were flowing naturally and he no longer had any doubts about what he was doing.

When the Doctor dared to begin the bucolic triumphalism of Pachelbel’s _Canon in D Major_ , Brad joined him and the two guitars formed a magnificent chorus of pure virtue inspired by the divine. Immortal music lived there, in the hands of those two great guitar players. Mike admitted that he was unable to play that way. Chester was chewing his knuckles and Dave was gasping with emotion.

The clarity of a perfect day had definitely settled in that room. It was as if the Sun had risen in a glorious dawn of promises, and the light broke up, in an explosion of wonders, showing Clara that was watching everything from the other side of the stage, showing Joe and Rob paralysed in their usual position of comatose statues.

Chester pointed them out.

“Look!”

Slowly, the two turned and faced them, their backs to the stage where the spotlight burned like a comet, highlighting the impeccable performance of the Doctor and Brad’s guitar duet. The Korean bent forward and started vomiting. Chester wanted to go to his friend, but Mike caught him with the arm that continued to hold him.

A sticky mass was projected out from Joe’s mouth and he fell to his knees. Rob threw up his portion of viscous matter and knelt down. In a movement that was the mirror of the other, the two men oscillated softly, they sat on their heels, they exhaled a long sigh, they rolled the eyes and fell on their side, leaning against each other.

Dave said, holding back the euphoria:

“It seems to me that they… it seems to me that they are cured. The fungus was eliminated from their system. It’s there, in that disgusting thing they threw up.”

Chester shook his shoulders and let go of Mike. He ran to his friends.

“Joe! Rob!”

The guitars fell silent with a final chord debited in unison. Brad stretched high the right arm, showing his index and pinkie fingers, in the typical horns that symbolize Metal music. Strands of sweat slid down his face and were lost in his hard beard. The Doctor was smiling arrogantly, observing the world from that towering pedestal that made him repulsive and admirable. Very normal for a Timelord over two thousand years old.

“What the fuck is happening here?”, Joe asked, hoarse and unpleasant.

“Look at me… hey, guys! Joe’s eyes are normal again!”, Chester shouted. He held the Korean in his arms and his voice trembled. “My friend, welcome back. Fuck, you scared us! You are finally cured. Dude, you’re cured…”

“Hey, Bennington! Cut this pussy scene! Let go of me, man.”

“Rob?”

“Dave, a train passed over me”, confessed the drummer, rubbing the face with his hands.

Clara pressed the hands to her chest. There was a relief, an easing. She felt incredibly well, as if she had awakened from a long, soothing sleep that had fully recovered her energies. She was also no longer infected with the fungus’ invisible spores.

Mike came closer to the platform. After giving Clara a happy smile, he put his hands on the small stage. He looked up, to the Doctor and Brad who were relaxing after a demanding performance, which had consumed more calories than they had expected.

“Classical music, Doctor?”

The Timelord said:

“You can’t dance to Beethoven!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is well when it ends well.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The friends reunite.


	32. The friends reunite

Chester was crying in a real scandal of emotion, spit and snot, hugging Joe who still didn’t understand what was happening. He stubbornly classified it as a mushy, tacky and embarrassing scene. But because he was aware of the vocalist’s fragility, and as he didn’t disdain a good consolation, even if for reasons he didn’t know, he didn’t let go and remained in that ambiguity of protest and acceptance.

Rob and Dave looked at each other, and it was the bassist who asked the question:

“You don’t remember anything?”

The Korean told:

“I was drinking water in the dressing room, and now I am in this sci-fi movie room. Is there a film being shot at Milton Keynes? Or is it some video for a new song Mike wrote, and no one told me anything? Where are we? Shouldn’t we be going on stage? Uh, Chaz… that’s enough.”

“And what about you, Rob?”

The drummer paled.

“Uh… I can remember more things… We have been captured, we were inside a closed box and… after that, nothing else. It was Joe who infected me?”

“And now the fungus was defeated and you are no longer infected!”, the Doctor announced, jumping from the platform.

Wiping his sweaty forehead, Brad chose to leave the platform the same way he reached it, through the cluttered staircase built by large boxes. He was holding tightly the arm of the magical guitar, and he was smiling, pleased, because he had managed to meet the challenge of playing classical music themes without a mistake – which ultimately resulted in Joe and Rob’s healing.

Mike was beside Clara. Before proceeding with his explanation of the rescue, that had both improvisation and geniality, the Doctor grabbed her hand and brought her with him to the centre formed by the circle of friends. She, too, was healed of the infection by the same fungus, and his two hearts were beating relieved from that weight. He hated to know she was sick. It reminded him how friable and finite she was.

Chester wiped the nose and mouth with the sleeves of his shirt, finally let go of Joe who stood up, slightly sulking for he had asked a lot of questions and no one had answering him directly. Rob stood up, helped by Dave. Brad stopped next to Mike and the vocalist joined them, murmuring in the latter’s ear:

“Buddy, that’s a dead zone out there. Save your efforts, the girl isn’t available. The two have some sort of… commitment.”

The Japanese was astonished.

“What are you talking about?”

“He is Clara’s sugar daddy.”

“Chester!”, Mike exclaimed, opening his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s right”, Chester nodded, looking sharp. “A sugar daddy. If you want me to explain what is a…”

“I know what’s a… I know what’s that. Frankly, Chaz… after everything the Doctor has done for us, and you are still teasing him. And I wasn’t picking Clara up. I was just… I wasn’t doing nothing, speaking the truth.”

“Doctor”, Clara said, looking at him with admiration. “What happened here?”

“Beethoven!”

“And Mozart and Bach and… ouch!”. Chester fell silent, offended by Mike’s nudge. He muttered: “I may look stupid, but I recognized the tunes. I also hear that shit Rob plays on the piano, while he tells us about the music lessons that his mother forced him to take, when he was just a kid.”

“Why did you choose classical music?”

“Because we can’t dance to Beethoven, my dear Mike”, the Doctor repeated.

“I know those sunglasses”, Chester said. “Why is the old man wearing your sunglasses, Mike?”

“Style, lad!”, the Doctor replied. He stretched out the index finger and continued, like if he was a teacher: “When I left, I travelled to the alternative reality where the fungi won and the Earth was invaded by the daleks. Everything was done to irritate me, noticed it. It’s nothing against you, humans. Thousands of planets like yours exists throughout the Universe. However, the daleks and all the enemies of the Timelords of Gallifrey, from the Cybermen to the Silence, know that I have a huge weakness. I love the Earth, its inhabitants, its ecosystem and all its invisible wonders! That’s why they choose you as a target. Anyway… let’s move on! This time, an avaza fungus was used, a formidable creature that feeds on sound, created by the Azkura people in an incredibly distant pass, a parasite currently produced by the daleks. The daleks have been wandering on a multiverse plane since I expelled them into that reality and, from time to time, they find inventive methods of destruction. And they stumbled on this parasite, on some parallel Universe.”

“An avaza fungus created by the Azkura people… another alien thing”, Dave summarized.

“Alien?!”, Joe said with a squeak

“Shush, Joe”, Chester asked. “Yes, we are in the middle of a science fiction adventure. It all started with you, so you’re the last one to know.”

“You… You’re kidding, right?”

“No, Joe. This is not a game or a simulation. It’s quite real. We will tell you everything, afterwards.”. Mike asked: “Please, Doctor. Go on.”

“The avaza fungus likes patterns. For this extraordinary creature music is merely food. Ordinary, trivial, vulgar. During its evolution, while it was devouring the songs of the different Azkura clans, it adapted to fatten whit recognizable food. It studied the modulations of sound, their specific frequencies and it defined the food that was more delicious. Do you understand? The avaza fungi have their favourite dishes from a vast menu of infinite sound. And just how it happens with your human and vulnerable bodies, for the avaza fungi there is sound that nourishes and sound that kills!”

“Like mushrooms!”, Brad said, excited.

“Yes, like mushrooms!”, Clara repeated. “There are eatable mushrooms and poisonous mushrooms.”

“Exactly, Clara Oswald! Like mushrooms…”

Chester whispered:

“See, Mike? Sugar. Daddy. Ouch!”

He shut up, resentful with his friend’s nudge.

The Doctor rambled, intrigued:

“Yes. Mushroom are fungi, and we have here an interesting cycle that has been completed, sound and fungi.”

“Doctor…?”, Dave called.

The Timelord shook his head, awakening from the short digression that took him to the far ends of his ever-boiling mind.

“Ah yes, my dear ginger. I will explore that hypothesis later, the mushrooms one. Very succinctly and like a conclusion, the avaza fungi that were infecting your friends were defeated by sound that poisoned them. Like when a person eats a mushroom unfit for consumption. He dies. If he chooses an eatable mushroom… well, it is an exquisite delicacy. What your hairy friend and I just did was giving the avaza fungi sound that killed them.”

“Beethoven”, Mike added, frowning.

“Yes, Beethoven! And all the other classical composers, but I have a predilection for Beethoven. A man absolutely impossible to put up with!”

“You know Beethoven?”, Brad said, suspiciously.

“Elevated music. Or classical music, as you prefer”, the Doctor continued. “Music with a rigid structure, demanding performance, which does not allow improvisation, with a variable rhythmic framework within a tight style. Music impossible to dance to! The avaza fungi consume predictable and repetitive sound, with variations that end up adjusting to a pattern, choruses and short verses.”

Chester crossed his arms and looked at Mike. The Japanese said:

“So… the fungus appreciates popular music, and hates the so called classical or elevated music?”

“The avaza fungus prefers a less complicated food”, the Doctor amended. “Simple sound, that its DNA is able to absorb and change, within a controllable spectrum of mutations. It was for that reason that it didn’t like the scream of your friend’s powerful voice, at first, but that became part of his diet as soon as it recorded it in its genetic code.”

“Oh… yes. The fungi made Joe and Rob more aggressive when Chester screamed a second time.”

The Doctor pushed the glasses with the tip of his finger, adjusting them over the bridge of his noise. His smile was even more imposing.

“The fungus appeared on the backstage of our show”, Mike completed “because the music we make… is standardized. It admits improvisations and variations, but in the end, it’s confined within a more or less established style. Rock, Metal, Rap, Electronic… and so on.”

“Bravo, Mike!”

“Thanks, Doctor…”

The Japanese, however, was disappointed. Chester noticed that, and he put an arm around his shoulders. He shook him to cheer him up.

“Hey, buddy… don’t let an alien fungus define you as a musician. We may not make _classical music_ ”, when saying these words Chester grimaced, “but we do excellent music and we’re the biggest band in the world.”

“That was the second reason you were chosen as a target”, the Doctor admitted.

“Really? What reason?”, Brad asked.

“You are the biggest band in the world”, Clara replied emotionally, her eyes shining.

“Oh…”

“Of course we’re the biggest fucking band in the world!”, Joe exclaimed punching the air. “And now… after all this explanation about fungi that eat sound… can you be so kind to explain what the hell happened to me?!”

Dave turned to the DJ.

“When you were drinking water in the dressing room… you didn’t do anything else, Mr. Hahn?”

“No. Wait… yes, I think I did… there was a green spot.”

“It’s explained.”

“Doctor? We must close this question. Once and for all”, Clara said, determinedly. “Earth cannot be invaded by these parasites. If we cured Joe, we have the solution to destroy them.”

The Timelord touched the side frame of his sunglasses. The characteristic sound of the sonic screwdriver was heard. Dave and Brad looked at each other, puzzled, but decided not to comment. Joe and Rob were still a little dizzy and they were ignoring a series of clues that could launch huge existential debates. Mike was still discouraged and Chester asked him what was going on.

“We have to make different music”, he muttered.

“Different music? Why, Mike?”

The Doctor said to Clara:

“The avaza fungus is a fascinating creature. I will collect a specimen and keep it with me, in the TARDIS. They are a legend, and every legend must be preserved, as a warning and as an example. However, I will not tolerate the daleks taking advantage of the avaza fungus to fulfil their evil plans to pursue me until the end of the world! We will go to the vivarium, to begin. Then, regarding this ship… it’s not up to me.”

She found that last statement odd, but she didn’t seek clarification. In the issues that involved the Doctor, it wasn’t possible to make very detailed plans, thinking on a long term. Everything happened in that minute, immediately, now, in an indispensable hurry, as if time wasn’t an infinite blessing for that man that came from the depths of time itself – and that was the supreme grace of the adventures with the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the explanation from the Doctor how they defeated the fungus.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Too many things to remember.


	33. Too many things to remember

Joe Hahn had always been a science fiction fanatic consumer. He admired everything related to the genre, from movies, books, to illustrations, comic books, small stories, monsters, creatures and special effects. So, it was with a totally hallucinated and delighted expression that he was observing the corridor of the spaceship he was walking in the company of his friends, the Doctor and Clara.

“Too bad I don’t have my camera with me! Or my cell phone!”, he lamented loudly. “What a tragedy not to be able to register this walk and keep it in my personal files! I think I’ll regret it forever…”

“We’ve been having a lot of trouble here”, Dave said. “Nobody remembered to save this experience to posterity. We had other priorities.”

“You are all insane!”, Joe rebuked, opening the arms. “There’s nothing more priority than to save what’s in here in the History of mankind!”

“ _You_ were the priority”, Rob clarified, defending the bassist who resented the rebuke. “We are here because _you_ had been infected by the fungus and the parasite came from this spaceship.”

“And we are now going to the vivarium where the fungi are being incubated”, Brad explained, still grabbing firmly the guitar, which he hadn’t returned to Mike. “We are going to eliminate the bug, to prevent the infection of all the Earth’s inhabitants. That parasite is dangerous. It was destroying you… you were going to die, man! When the fungus hatched, it would blow your skull. It was destroying you, and you were taking everyone with you. You even infected Rob, the nitwit.”

“Nitwit?!”, the drummer exclaimed, offended.

“Yes, nitwit. You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Ah… you deserve taking down a notch to learn some respect.”

“Shut up, freshman. You are still the youngest of the group.”

“Can I keep a fungus?”

“No way, Mr. Hahn!”, Mike said. “If the Doctor wants to keep a fungus, he can do it, because he has the right conditions to keep it in his ship… now you… I wouldn’t trust you a goldfish, much less a fungus that devours its hosts.”

“Is there a _second_ ship?”

“Yes, the Doctor’s ship that brought us to this sector of the Milky Way, where some war took place, thousand years ago or such”, Chester explained, hands in his coat pockets.

“We are… in the middle of the Milky Way?!”. Joe looked at the corridor walls. “And how we are losing that magnificent vision of deep space? What’s the stupid reason that explains why there are no windows, big and panoramic windows, that let us see the stars? I bet there are millions of stars! And nebulae! And a graveyard of spaceships, remnants of that war!”

“You can ask the ship to bring up a window”, Chester said. “We are inside a magical borabora spaceship…”

“Buondabuonda”, Mike amended.

“Yeah, that Hawaiian crap. A little while ago, in the room where we were hiding, I was hungry and I made fruit appear. And Dave thought about chocolates and a bowl full of sweets appeared. And Mike was snapping the fingers and everything obeyed him. He looked like a _Dungeons & Dragons _mage summoning spells. Dave said he was Harry Potter, but fuck… nothing beats a powerful _D &D _mage!”

“What’s Chaz been drinking?”, Joe asked.

“Nothing. He’s saying the truth. We’re on a ship that obeys… our needs”, Dave explained, with a shrug. “I think that’s how the box where we were captive disappeared, Rob. Our will overcame the will of our captors. When I found myself being attacked by you and Joe, with Brad sick, I wanted to escape. I really wanted to escape! But you don’t remember anything, because, meanwhile, you were infected.”

“Ah… So, all we had to do was _wanting_ and we’d be free.”

“Apparently. The solution was quite simple, dude.”

“Shit… I never missed my camera so damn much…”, Joe growled.

Brad tapped his forehead with a finger.

“Save everything inside here. Use your memory, man.”

“I want to take pictures!!”

“You’re not going to throw a tantrum, are you, Mr. Hahn?”

“Shut up, Shinoda. I have every right to throw a tantrum.”

Clara hid a smile between her fingers while she was listening to that delicious conversation. The Doctor caught her emotion and raised his eyebrows. She said:

“It’s part of my request, you know? _To watch_ a Linkin Park show and _to be_ with them. The wishes granted by the TARDIS usually includes more than we are expecting, to begin with.”

“Being with them turned out to be a bonus. The idea was just to watch the show at Milton Keynes, on this Sunday, June 2008.”

“If I just wanted _to watch_ Linkin Park to perform I would have bought a ticket to one of their shows, as they are still touring the world and they usually play in England. When I made the request to you, Doctor… I won more than just a show. I won an adventure!”

“What if it went wrong?”

“I trust you!”, she said, with a refreshing giggle. “It wouldn’t go wrong.”

Clara wrapped the arm around the Doctor’s arm, and they went together, very close, down the corridor. It was them who were leading that small procession.

“Sugar daddy…”, Chester whispered, winking at Mike who shook his head.

Joe screamed.

“Ah!!”

And he ran awkwardly, arms in the air, prolonging the childish scream. Dave was going to chase him, worried about that sudden attack, but Rob grabbed him by the coat and stopped him.

“Wait! Look ahead.”

Chester smiled.

“The ship is responding to Joe.”

Brad and Mike also smiled.

The DJ leaned over the metal sill of a magnificent window, he stuck his nose to the glass and continued to scream, jumping now, sighing and gasping, in endless happiness. He saw space, the vast unfathomable heaven, the beauty of the Universe contemplated from that tiny place at one end of the galaxy known as the Milky Way. There were stars as far as the eye could see – there weren’t nebulae, no graveyard of spaceships – but that unique landscape was enough for Joe Hahn burst into tears of pure emotion. Chester hugged him. Then it was Dave, Mike, Brad and Rob’s turn, who, being the tallest, always closed the collective hugs. The men shared the joy, the experience, the wonder, relieved to be together again.

They resumed the walk that wasn’t long and arrived at the vivarium. The Doctor opened the door and rows of boxes appeared where the fungi were growing, in a controlled environment. Joe howled in frustration because, once again, he couldn’t register that vision with his camera. He cursed, kicked the wall, and then said that he felt calmer.

“How will the vivarium be destroyed?”, Mike asked. “Are we going to play classical music, as it happened a little while ago, when we cured Joe and Rob?”

“It won’t be necessary”, the Doctor answered, advancing inside the room.

“That lunatic isn’t afraid to walk in here?”, Dave asked, pale.

“We’ve been here before, Phoenix”, Chester revealed, biting his nails. “The fungi are in a primitive stage and aren’t aggressive. And as long as we don’t touch them, everything is all right.”

“Have you been here before?”, Brad was surprised.

“Your guitar came from here”, said Mike and he pointed to the back wall. “Look. That mural…”

“Geez!”

Brad Delson’s eyes gained kaleidoscope sparkles when he noticed the mural composed by dozens of guitars, of all shapes, sizes and genres. There were even instruments that he had never seen. He took a step forward, but Clara sopped him with an arm.

“No. Stay. We are here to finish with the vivarium and nothing else… At this phase, we cannot interfere with the Doctor’s plan.”

“And it would be better for you to abandon that guitar, little lad!”, the Doctor warned with his back to them, when he reached the mural, one finger extended pointing upwards. “You could get burned.”

“Burned?”

“As much as it’s hard for you, Brad… drop the guitar”, Mike asked, observing the Doctor’s movements.

“What’s he gonna do?”, Rob asked, standing on tiptoe to get a better look, which would be totally unnecessary given his height.

Chester shrugged.

“The old man does what he wants and we’ll have to accept it.”

“Chazy!!”, Mike censored, without taking his eyes of the Doctor who placed his hands on the mural’s spirals.

Annoyed, Brad put the guitar down on the floor, giving it a goodbye caress. He regretted, in a disgraceful tone, that he really wanted to take it with him, and Joe took the opportunity to complain again the lack of his camera, that was quite unfair that he had been the first infected with the fungus, because if it had happened to another one of the group, he would have equipped himself with the camera as soon as they travelled there on that second spaceship. And with that idea in mind, he turned to Dave and started to discuss with the bassist, but why no one had remembered to bring a camera with them.

The Doctor abandoned the mural and ran though the passage. He continued to carry his guitar and the amplifier; he was still wearing the sunglasses. He asked, in a harsh tone:

“The fatty and the ginger, stop arguing and come down here to get a box.”

“What?! Who’s the fatty?”

“You’d better do what the old man says”, said Chester.

“Chaz!”, Mike said, indignantly, but he thought it wasn’t worth to get mad. “Go, Dave and Joe. Go grab a box.”

“Come with us too and we’ll take two boxes.”

“No, Mr. Hahn. I won’t let you have a pet fungus”, Mike repeated, authoritarian, his voice lower. “ _All_ that we suffered when you had a fungus inside was enough.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”, Rob asked, worried.

“I don’t believe it. The Doctor knows what he’s doing.” Clara reassured him smiling, and the drummer winked at her. She noticed that Rob was quite handsome, pleasant and interesting. Perhaps an invitation for a date… She erased that idea from her mind by reoccupying it with the Timelord. She muttered: “Most of the time… the Doctor knows what he’s doing.”

The Doctor went up the small staircase. He urged Dave and Joe to move faster. The two had already removed the box from the platform and arranged it in the space between them, so they could carry it in the best way possible, without tiring their arms.

“Come on! Come on! The force field will appear soon and you’ll be stuck on the other side if you don’t hurry.”

And as soon as Joe and Dave went up the first two steps, with the glass box where a little green fungus was bubbling, a static electricity barrier was erected to protect the vivarium, that crackled and rumbled. The thunder was so loud that Mike crouched down and protected Chester who was at his side, pulling him close with a shove. Brad took a step back and noticed a thin column of smoke that was coming out from the guitar he had left on the floor. Rob hugged Clara. The Doctor didn’t like to see that, but he had one of the hands occupied with the damn amplifier, the guitar was heavy on his neck, and he decided to ignore it. His two hearts, however, beat faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe needs his camera. Give him a camera, please...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> And that's how it ends.


	34. And that's how it ends

The vivarium was totally destroyed. The sound waves with the correct frequency, collected from the brief spectacle of classical music played on electric guitar, were recorded in his sonic glasses and for the Doctor was enough to introduce the pattern at the appropriate place of the mural that nourished the growing fungi. The alarm of an unscheduled invasion was initially triggered. A force field was generated, and the boxes were protected, but the destruction sequence had already been set in motion and the system wasn’t able, with the directives that ruled it, to override this massive threat. When the Doctor closed the door and asked everyone to step aside, an explosion occurred that completely burned the vivarium.

“The guitars acted as ignition points”, the Doctor concluded. “If you hadn’t gotten rid of the guitar, little lad, you also be scorched, like all the fungi in the room, after they’d been annulled through the probe that fed them.”

Brad didn’t refute that evidence. He realized that the guitar has overheated and that it was going to catch fire, but he was still sulking because he couldn’t keep it, and made a face. When the Doctor turned, he showed his tongue. Chester laughed hard and Mike nudged him again.

“Are you sure it’s safe to carry this box?”, Dave asked suspiciously.

Joe was panting at the other end.

“Is that heavy?”, Rob asked.

“Mr. Hahn doesn’t like exercise. _Any_ exercise”, Chester commented. “He’s always complaining when it’s about physical effort.”

“Come here and hold this, Bennington, since you have such a big mouth”, protested the DJ offended.

“I can’t, dude. I have a poor health. I could be infected by the fungus just by looking at it through the glass.”

“Your poor health is always an excuse.”

“Do you want me to be sick?”

“And if you were sick? We already know how to heal you. Look at me. I was infected, to the point of having amnesia of what I was doing during that period, and I’m already here, serving as a slave.”

“My system is different from yours. I could develop complications due to the fungus that would end up incurable, and then I know you… you’ll be crying on my deathbed.”

“How dramatic, Bennington!”

“Stop the fight, you two”, Mike asked. “I’ll help Dave. Get out of there, Joe.”

“No, not you”, the Doctor said. “We are going to need you, and you cannot be occupied with minor porter tasks.”

Everyone looked at Mike, and then at the Doctor.

“You’re going to need me?”, the Japanese said, pointing a finger at himself.

“Yes. You, big guy, go, since the fatty apparently doesn’t have the strength to carry a simple glass box.”

“Who’s the big guy?”

“It’s you, Rob. The old man just memorized Mike’s name”, Chester teased.

“And who’s the fatty?”, asked Joe, blushing furiously.

“I’ll help Dave”, Brad said. “Rob was also infected with the fungus and he may have the same lack of strength.”. As soon as he received the DJ’s testimony, he gasped. “Hey. The box is _really_ heavy!”

“Let’s hope the ride is short”, Dave said. “Let’s go, Brad. Follow my count. One, two… one, two…”

The bassist and the guitarist started to walk down the corridor. They had no idea which direction to take, but it was painful to be standing with the box on their hands. The artificial gravity seemed to have increased exponentially its volume, making the box doubly and triple heavy, pushing it down with an invisible hand. It didn’t even seem that inside there was a tiny bubble throbbing, and that it must weigh less than a cookie. And it wasn’t credible that the glass structure contributed to all that extra weight. It was another mystery from that adventure.

Rob, Joe and Chester went after Dave and Brad, Clara followed them. Before, she looked over her shoulder briefly.

The Doctor snapped his fingers, calling Mike.

“We’ll need you.”

“What should I do?”

“You are going to destroy the spaceship.”

The Japanese swallowed hard and stammered:

“W-what? I am going to… going to destroy the spaceship?”

“Yes. You know how to do it.”

“Do I?”

The Doctor’s hands waved before Mike Shinoda’s face. He stepped back, startled by that. He blinked and he shook his head.

“Eliminate the questions from your mind. They will only disturb you”, the Timelord explained. “It was up to me to destroy the vivarium. It’s up to you to destroy the buondabuonda spaceship and, in the process, eliminate the dalek command that is ambushed in the bridge preparing the invasion of the Earth. It’s your planet, it’s the human race. Do you want to continue to make music? So, you must save the world where you live in. Nobody else can do it. Not even your friend.”

“I don’t know what to do…”

“Yes, you do”, the Doctor insisted.

He straightened his back. He pulled the flaps of his coat, exposing its red lining, resting the hands on his waist.

“The salvation of the Earth isn’t assured yet, Mike. The fixed point in time has not been created and, at this moment, I can’t see what is going to happen. But the Universe is unbalanced without the existence of the Earth, and I won’t let it fall. There are times, however, when I can do nothing. It has to be you, humans, to save yourselves.”

“The vivarium was destroyed. The daleks no longer have the means to invade with the fungi that died in the explosion. Is it really necessary for this spaceship to be destroyed?”

“The daleks are dangerous. They exterminate all the races in the Universe that aren’t dalek and they will not let us leave this spaceship, if we show that kind of mercy.”

“They’ll trap us…”

“They’ll catch us, and they will not be satisfied until they kill us. We destroyed the vivarium of the avaza fungi and they will seek revenge. Right now, they are trying to find us so we can pay the price for that outrage. A dalek doesn’t forgive those who affront him. The Time War was long, painful and sad.”

Mike looked alarmed at the group that was walking, down the corridor. His friends. Clara. Completely unaware of the danger they were in.

“And can they find us?”

“Yes, Mike. They can. It’s a matter… of time.”

“The TARDIS is near.”

“We are on a buondabuonda spaceship. The daleks may override your _will_. And when that happens, if it happens… you will never regain control. And the hunting will begin.”

The Doctor walked away.

Mike stood, his feet stuck to the ground, unable to start walking after his friends. He was digesting those words. Everything depended on him. He was still responsible, the supposed leader, the eventual helmsman.

To do or not to do. He remembered Yoda.

He had a spasm that pinched his soul with a strange happiness. If Dagobah existed, and if the Doctor travelled through space and time with his blue telephone box, he could, one day, know the real planet Dagobah.

No, he judged between wisdom and madness. There was no Yoda in this real Dagobah and he didn’t want to be disappointed.

He opened the legs. He bent the right arm at the elbow. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, held his breath. He concentrated himself. And when he forced the brain to focus, everything faded, and only a single black dot became clear.

He snapped the fingers.

The sound echoed endlessly inside him. That crack repeating itself, over and over again, in a sound wave that rippled among the stars.

A siren blared and the corridor lighting turned red and dull. Mike woke up from the trance. He realized that the self-destruction system had been activated and that they had limited time to leave the site. A few minutes, maybe.

Mission accomplished, and now they were returning home. He had successfully sabotaged the spaceship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They can return home... finally.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The Summer remains the same.


	35. The Summer remains the same

They huddled, scared, at the TARDIS door. A calm, feminine voice, identical to many central computer voice processors known from movies and science fiction stories, was leaving a warning every twenty seconds that they needed to find an escape pod to avoid the doomed spaceship’s imminent destruction. They had less than five minutes to abandon the site.

Dave and Brad were sweating profusely and their arms were shaking from the effort of carrying the fungus box. Chester hopped in the same spot and peered down the corridor, counting each step Mike took to approach them, and that seemed too slow for the urgency of the situation. Rob bit the lips apprehensively and anxiously, which was far from normal. Clara swayed on her own heels, marking the steps, but from her Doctor who approached indolently and even happily, carrying the guitar and the amplifier, ignoring how they were all about to be obliterated by a giant detonation. Joe mumbled insistently about the lack of his camera, waved a fist, and observed the scenario between astonishment and pity.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door with a theatrical gesture, turning the key.

The first ones to enter, stumbling in the entrance, were Dave and Brad who threw themselves to the floor of the telephone box, where they laid down the box with a sudden thump.

“You didn’t break that, did you?”, Rob asked, who entered next.

“I really hope not! I didn’t have all this trouble so that, in the end, it wasn’t worth it”, Brad gasped. “Phoenix? Is everything all right with the fungus?”

“Yeah… I guess it is”, Dave snorted. He coughed and took a deep breath to oxygenate the lungs. “What a heavy box! But why is so heavy? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“So that you gave up bringing it with you. Another mean of protecting the fungus”, the Doctor explained, and he went directly to the console, passing over them. “Would you, please, take the box to the lower deck? Don’t let it hinder the ship’s entrance, it interferes with the safety procedures.”

“Joe… Rob… you’re inside the TARDIS and you’ll be safer. You’ve been sick, and you no longer be, in this final stage. Carry the box, please”, Brad pleaded, rubbing the breastbone.

“Yes, do that good deed for us”, Dave whined.

The disk jockey entered the ship and he was going to do what he was asked, because the route was much shorter than the one been required from the vivarium to that place, he wouldn’t mind bearing the weight of the fungus box, but he froze when he saw that the inside was bigger that the absurd outside, that resembled a blue wooden box.

“The ship… the ship…”

“Yes, it’s bigger on the inside”, Rob devalued, impatiently. “Come here and help me, and we’ll tell you everything during the walk.”

It was Clara’s turn to enter and she called:

“Chester! Mike! Hurry up! We have less than thirty seconds!”

“Mike!! Run, dude!”

The two men entered the TARDIS hugged by the shoulders, when the feminine voice announced that they had ten seconds, and the unstoppable and inevitable countdown started, from nine to zero, until the explosion, until the end. Clara closed the door. The Doctor lowered a lever. The gadget vibrated and they were traveling.

Chester threw himself into Mike’s arms and held him close.

“Chazy, it’s OK. We’re saved. We are _all_ saved.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? Did you sabotage the spaceship?”

“Yes, Chazy. It was me.”

“That’s wild, Spike! The adrenaline of all this. Better than an amusement park roller coaster!”

They faced each other and laughed loudly.

Returning to the TARDIS main room, after having gone with Rob to leave the fungus box in the lower platform, Joe’s shout broke their laughter.

“I _want_ my camera! This scene is brutal! What is this ship? Are you sure this is a ship? It’s not some special effects thing and we’re still inside the other ship that’s about to blow? Are we going to die? I don’t like to die now, you know…”

Dave pulled him aside and started to explain to him what was happening. The whole story, since he had gone as an undead to Mike, in the dressing room, the appearance of the Doctor, all the incidents to know how to eliminate the fungus, until the moment when he had awakened after an epic show of classical music on electric guitar, given by the Doctor and Brad. Rob also heard the narrative, as he had been absent during the final part of the adventure.

Clara joined the Doctor at the console and she was smiling at him, pleased that everything had ended well. Somewhere, in space, rested a buondabuonda spaceship and the dalek command, shattered in debris and space dust.

Chester said:

“Now, you can give him the glasses back.”

The Doctor put the sunglasses inside his coat’s inner pocket.

“That won’t be possible, little lad. I don’t intend to share my browser history with your friend Mike.”

“Browser history?”

“Let him have my glasses, Chazy. I’ll get another.”

“It’s _your_ glasses, Mike”, Chester insisted, his arms crossed.

“I have an idea. You’re going to offer me a new pair of glasses. Hum? What do you think? You have an excellent taste for accessories, for sure it will be nicer and stylish than the one I leave with the Doctor.”

Brad smiled. Chester couldn’t resist when someone appealed to his vanity.

“Uh… All right, Mike. I’ll buy you a new pair of glasses”, he agreed.

Mike gave him a friendly punch to the chest.

“Thanks.”

They returned to Milton Keynes. June 2008, late in the evening of the day dedicated to Saint Peter. The TARDIS, that time, parked near the amphitheatre backstage, that was steaming in a typical Summer festival frenzy. The crowd was making a deafening noise while waiting for the next artists to perform, who were the most wanted for that day. The Doctor briefly peered the outside, and then returned to the interior of the ship.

“Wait… One more minute.”

“Why?”

“Because, Clara Oswald… the TARDIS chose an hour where _we_ are still here, so your beloved Linkin Park wouldn’t be late for the show, which should already had started. I don’t want to create an impossible paradox and then we’ll have another crisis. The daleks tend to take advantage of these cracks in the fabric of the Universe.”

“Ah! We are waiting for _you and I_ to enter the dressing room where they are locked inside.”

“Precisely!”

“Are there others of us, too?”, Mike asked.

“Yes. You are all locked inside the dressing room, panicking, because your friend is infected.”

“So, we shouldn’t meet ourselves too, right?”, Dave asked.

“Right, right.”

“And what are we gonna do, meanwhile?”, Chester asked.

“The work that needs to be done, little lad.”

The vocalist sighed and rolled his eyes. Joe said:

“I would like to see myself infected.”

“You remained ugly. There weren’t noticeable improvements”, Brad said.

“And you have a disgusting green helmet on your head”, Rob completed. “The fungus didn’t really benefit you.”

“No one will find strange to have a blue telephone box parked in the backstage?”, Mike asked.

“Nobody ever found my TARDIS strange”, said the Doctor, annoyed. “It’s a perfectly English police telephone booth, and we are in England. What could be strange about it?”

“Nothing…”

At a signal from the Doctor, they all left the TARDIS, and the eight went, in a line, to Joe’s dressing room. In there, putting the sunglasses on, that were now sonic, the Doctor killed the fungus that was lodged there, an unsuspected green stain, next to a table.

Everything was back to normal.

However, there were some details remaining to be taken care of…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are back! And the show in Milton Keynes can, finally, happen. But first...
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Traces.


	36. Traces

Someone knocked on the dressing room door. Two impatient knocks.

“Boys?”

They recognized Cammy’s voice. Mike looked at them, one by one. It was obvious that they wanted him to step forward as their spokesman, to lead them in that issue, as he had done from the beginning, when he decided to call for a doctor to help his friend who had a strange disease.

“Two minutes and we’ll be out”, he announced.

“Is everything all right? Is it really _all right_?”

“Yes, dear. Two minutes. Warn everybody.”

“You seem calmer.”

“We are ready, Cammy.”

“Two minutes. I’m counting, Mike Shinoda!”

The woman walked away from the door. They had returned to the dressing room after their other “selves” left it through the back door. At that moment they were entering the van to leave the perimeter of the amphitheatre, going to a second TARDIS, towards the greatest adventure of their lives that ended in the same dressing room.

Soon they were going to enter on stage and an injection of adrenaline happened. Without being fully concerted, the six looked at each other, they came closer, they embraced themselves in a compact circle, arms in their backs and shoulders, heads together.

Mike took the lead again:

“Boys! Let’s go and perform an unforgettable show.”

Dave agreed:

“I really need to play. I have too many negative energies accumulated in my system.”

“Are you sure it’s not Joe and Rob’s fungus?”, Brad asked, amused.

“The fungus wasn’t mine, or Joe’s. It belonged to those giant metallic salt shakers”, said Rob.

“What giant metallic salt shakers? Nobody said anything about some giant metallic salt shakers”, Joe said, indignant.

“I wanna go sing and jump!”, Chester exclaimed.

“An unforgettable show”, Mike repeated.

“To be recorded for posterity”, Brad said.

“This time, I’ll have my camera with me”, Joe said.

“And I’m gonna set the audience on fire. I’m ready for it!”, Chester warned.

“Let’s close this day in the best way possible. With epic music”, Rob said.

“With no fungi, no enemies, no fears, and no doubts”, Dave concluded.

They shouted a “yeah!” with one voice, they stretched their arms, joined hands in a single fist. They broke the circle and noticed that they weren’t alone. Of course, they knew that the Doctor and Clara were still there, but when they got together in that motivational circle before any show, the world resumed to the six of them. Everything else was diluted. It lost importance, consistency, and even existence.

Mike cleared his throat.

“We must have a minute or so. Cammy is timing the clock, and she won’t allow any more delays.”

“Sure. I’m ready!”, Chester said.

“Are you ready?”, Dave asked.

Brad, Rob and Joe nodded.

“Now it’s time to say our goodbyes”, Mike remembered.

He looked at the Doctor and at Clara, and he tried to smile. A lump, like a big seed, lodged in his throat. He swallowed and it hurt, he felt a pain in the chest, and he realized that saying goodbye was harder that it had seemed at first. He had shared with that strange alien and his companion, who travelled in an unusual blue telephone box, unrepeatable moments that, like a conclusion, had been fantastic. He will never forget them.

More emotional that he intended to be, he said, his voice breaking:

“Is my invitation really out of the question, Doctor?”

“Absolutely, Mike. I won’t be playing with you. The stage of the Milton Keynes amphitheatre is all yours.”

“Jay-Z will be playing with us, at the end of our show”, Brad said. “You could play too. You do very well with your Fender Stratocaster guitar.”. He added excitedly: “We could repeat the performance we did in the spaceship. A medley that will amaze everyone. And we’ll show that Linkin Park are versatile. We’ll have Rob adding rhythm, Dave on bass, Mike on a keyboard. Joe will wrap it all up with some electronic effects, and Chester would party with us.”

The Doctor waved a hand.

“Thank you very much, lads. But I will decline the invitation once again. Clara and I just want to watch your performance behind the scenes, in a privilege spot.”

“VIP seats”, she added, with a huge smile.

Mike accepted the Doctor’s refusal, which was happening a second time. He held out his hand:

“Thank you very much for everything, Doctor.”

The Timelord shook his hand, in a warm greeting.

“It was a pleasure to save the Earth, once again.”

He straightened his back, became more serious. He looked at the six men, and then he announced:

“So, let’s finish this adventure.”

Dave showed his surprise:

“It wasn’t finished?”

“You saw too many… different things. I need to erase your memory.”

Joe took a step back, in horror.

“No way! Nobody is going to erase my memory. I didn’t have _my_ camera on the spaceship and I had to keep mental memories of what I saw so that, later on, I’ll convert into drawings. It will be the only way to have a tangible proof of what happened. If my memory is erased… I will forget everything. Fuck that. No way! No way!”

“Calm down, Joe”, Rob asked.

“I’m not going to calm down. Nobody messes with my brain.”

Mike had gone pale.

“Doctor… is it really necessary?”, he stammered.

“Yes, it’s necessary. You saw too much. It’s a matter of precaution and it’s also for your own sake. Come on! It won’t hurt. You are big boys and you understand that erasing your memory is fundamental.”

Clara felt bad when she noticed the panic on their expressions. She touched the Doctor’s arm lightly.

“Is it really necessary?”, she repeated.

“Clara…”

“I’m a musician”, Mike explained, startled. “I need my mind, my developed musical skills. It you erase my memory… you can accidentally delete crucial information, a collateral damage or something like that. Song lyrics, songs I haven’t written yet, my ability as… as a creator. An artist needs his brain intact, without flaws.”

Chester replied:

“Well… that’s not entirely true, because my brain was all fucked up with drugs when I was a teenager…”

Baffled, Brad exclaimed, looking from his friend to Clara:

“Hey, dude! There’s a lady with us! Mind your language.”

“That’s the way I talk, I said some dirty words before and…”

“And we asked you to stop cursing”, Dave chided.

Clara said:

“It’s okay. I’m used to men who curse.”. And she looked at the Doctor.

“And when did I say dirty words?”, he asked, indignant, crossing his arms.

“Ah… you don’t remember? When we infiltrated the Government and you were the chief of the public relations cabinet. There were dirty words and free verbal offenses to everyone who crossed your way. You were quite intractable.”

“It never happened, Clara. You’re delusional.”

“If I didn’t do this you… then it was with someone very similar.”

“Anyway… let’s go back to the little lad”, the Doctor muttered, jealously.

Chester cracked his tongue and amended:

“Well… my brain was all _screwed up_ with drugs, and that’s how I discovered salvation in music. I didn’t lose skills, on the contrary. I think I gained them.”

“But first you had to heal yourself”, Dave said.

“Yes, I had! And…?”

“Your argument is false, Chaz.”

“Huh? Why?”

Mike put his hands together and begged:

“Please, Doctor. Don’t erase our memory. We take an oath, a secret pact, a contract verified by a notary that we will never comment on what we saw, heard and everything we went through with you and Clara. We promise that we’ll voluntarily forget about your existence.”

“We’ll do a blood oath!”

“Chaz, we won’t do that! A blood oath”, Brad protested. “Nonsense.”

“Trust us, Doctor”, Dave said. “Please.”

“Yes, we aren’t going to tell anyone that we believe in aliens”, Rob added.

“I believe!”, Joe said.

“And that we _saw_ , effectively, aliens”, the drummer completed.

“I think the blood oath…”

“Shut up, Chester”, Mike said. “No one will do a blood oath. We have our word. We are honourable men, come on. Doctor?”

They looked at each other. And in that pause, everything was measured, the will, the fear, the determination, the anxiety and even the honour. They were firm in this deaf dispute between courageous people, and, above all, aware of their value and of all they could achieve as long as they maintained the faith in their purposes. Because if the Doctor had personality, Mike, Dave, Brad, Chester, Rob and Joe also displayed the stuff of heroes, in their own way. Clara loved them all in that little silence.

Three rough knocks on the dressing room door startled them. Cammy’s angry loud voice was heard:

“The two minutes are over, guys! It’s show time. And if you don’t open that door… I swear I’ll break it down, and I’ll drag you personally, one by one, across this floor to that damn stage, so you can start playing, once and for all!”

The Doctor put on his sunglasses and announced:

“You heard her, lads. It’s show time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did the Doctor erase their memory... or not?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The show at Milton Keynes.


	37. The show at Milton Keynes

This time there would be no tragedy – no contamination of the crowd, no dalek invasion, no destruction of the Earth beginning in that peaceful and virtually anonymous village – but Clara was apprehensive. She was biting her lips and she was rubbing her hands together. The Doctor noticed her distress. He put an arm around her shoulders that surprised her. He didn’t appreciate the comfort of physical contact, he hated hugs, and he imposed himself by the dignified, respectful and even slightly offensive distance of a lonely and proud man. So that proximity made her even more tense.

The smile he gave her, candid and virile, made her stomach sink. He was too handsome with his grey hair growing elegantly dishevelled in ragged curls, the sunglasses added mystery by hiding his eyes of an electrifying blue.

“Everything is all right, Clara Oswald. The show will start shortly, and you’ll finally have your request fulfilled.”

“To see Linkin Park in Milton Keynes. June the twenty-ninth, 2008”, she whispered. “Road to revolution.”

“Your nightmare won’t happen again.”

“I know. I know!”

“So why are you shaking?”

“I’m… I’m afraid to be mistaken. Maybe the nightmare could really happen again.”

“You are never mistaken, Clara Oswald.”

The two were in the backstage, and they were wearing a card that identified them as VIP special guests, ‘Very Important Person’. That time it hadn’t been necessary the psychic paper, and the Doctor had enjoyed the flattery he received, since they were introduced by a vehement Mike Shinoda as Joe Hahn’s English cousins. Cammy had found it strange that the Korean born in the American state of Texas had cousins in England, especially since they were the doctor and his assistant who had solved the mysterious crisis that had put the show at risk; it was a huge and a very strange coincidence, but she made no comment that would echo her thoughts. After all, she needed Linkin Park to go on stage once and for all, and she wouldn’t be the one to put up more obstacles, distrusting the miraculous doctor who belonged to the DJ’s family. She didn’t even ask what crisis they have faced by verifying, with her own eyes, that the six men exhibited their usual sympathy, good mood and joy.

The crowd filling the amphitheatre was impressive and increasingly loud. It was possible to feel the emotion emitting intense vibrating waves of euphoria and heat, molecules that were mixing with the air glowing in hundreds of colours, in an exquisite staging that only the Doctor could see with the help of a specific filter of his sonic glasses. And that, unfortunately, he couldn’t share with Clara, because she didn’t have the visual capacity to see it.

She, however, was appreciating other aspects of that environment in uprising that overwhelmed the spectators, as well as the musicians who, on the backstage, were preparing to give themselves completely to their public, in a communion enhanced by music. The aspects that earthlings were able to absorb, without other artificialities. Happiness. Belonging. Distraction. Worship. And that was enough.

Sound everywhere. Brutal and dazzling sound!

No wonder the avaza fungi had appeared on that place to proliferate. It was the best place, on the whole Earth, for a sound thief. An authentic feast of noise, a banquet where timbre, intensity, height and duration were about to be served. Sound that fed, fatten and pleased.

The thought amused him, and the Doctor smiled widely.

Rob and Joe came in. They were the firsts from the band. One sat on the bench, in front of the drums. The other one stood in front of his mixing console.

Clara jumped and screamed. She clasped the hands to her chest. The Doctor continued to embrace her by the shoulders.

The distorted riff of the electric guitar played by Mike was heard. Dave and then Brad appeared. The three advanced to the front of the stage. And Chester came, agitated and unstoppable.

The crowd applauded, whistled, started to move.

The first song, an irreverent entry of powerful Rock, Linkin Park first single and first success. The connection was established and it wouldn’t be lost – band, public, instruments and voice, effects and beat, the Doctor and Clara. The day was ending and the sunset was burning the horizon in abrupt strokes of red, fire and blood, the eternal pacts with the Universe. The night promised the glory of heroes, music and worship, ground and sky. And the Doctor kept on smiling.

He never erased their memories. He believed in them. He didn’t need any contract or counterpart. He simply wanted to believe, and in that matter, he wouldn’t be mistaken. Because he also believed in Clara, and his companion trusted those boys who were showing their sound to the world in Milton Keynes’s amphitheatre.

“Doctor! What a wonderful show! Are you enjoying it? I’m loving it!!”, she shouted, jumping.

He said:

“I have no idea where the political messages are in the lyrics of a song that screams ‘Shut up when I’m talking to you’, ‘I won’t waste myself on you’, ‘I wanna find somewhere I belong’.”

“Ah, stop being so grumpy! I’m sure you’re enjoying it! The music is excellent and the lyrics contain a message… to the teenager that will forever exist in us.”

“I spent my teenage years in Gallifrey, Clara Oswald.”

“And as a teenager in Gallifrey, you didn’t have the typical problems of puberty? A body always changing, no one likes me, I am a misunderstood genius, I can’t stand still in one place, everything annoys me, everything makes me happy, I’m alone, I will never know what love is?”

His eyebrows appeared over the frames of the sunglasses.

“I think you described my life these past few years. A madman inside a blue box.”

“Oh!”

And she had, in fact, described the Doctor’s existence. She winked at him, a rather bold glimpse.

“Then, you should include Linkin Park’s music in your discotheque, in the TARDIS. You will see that they describe some moments of your brilliant eternal existence, wandering through the Universe. Including the pains of regeneration.”

She pointed to Chester who was screaming a song chorus, frowning, cringing, emulating a suffering that came from the spirit and his guts. Deep, invisible and heart-breaking.

“That is a very bold statement.”

“I am bold. And Linkin Park are brilliant. Admit it, Doctor. “. She stretched out an arm. “All these people can’t be mistaken. The avaza fungi weren’t mistaken. And the daleks won’t know more than a Timelord.”

“The daleks…”

“It was the daleks who chose the Linkin Park show to invade the Earth. My nightmare! And if the daleks realized Linkin Park’s quality, you, Doctor, you could also realize it, but with a more noble objective. Instead of destruction… recognition.”

“Right, Clara Oswald! I’ll arrange Linkin Park next to my Ludwig van Beethoven vinyl records. It will be an excellent duel… of geniuses.”

“Great. It just shows that you have good taste!”

The Doctor laughed and held her close. He whispered to her:

“I still think Mike is the smartest one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This show was/is epic! Clara and the Doctor were there - can you spot them in the official movie made from this show?
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Distant friends.


	38. Distant friends

Chester Bennington took off his coat as soon as he arrived at Mike Shinoda’s home studio. He complained about the heat inside, Mike reminded him that it was Winter, and that it was cold outside, the heating was on, they could be there only with their t-shirts, it was a sign of comfort, to which Chester replied that they were in California, it was never Winter in California compared to Canada, and the two laughed at each other.

Chester pulled out his cell phone and threw himself on the couch. He sent some messages to friends which were pending, some more than two weeks old. He was known for not being very regular with his replies. He was regular with the cell phone, he never dismissed it, he even was addicted to the device, but he didn’t know how to manage priorities very well, and navigated through his obligations on sight.

Mike told him that the new song was practically finished and Chester murmured, as he was writing, frantically, with his thumbs on the tiny keyboard of the cell phone.

“Chaz?”

“Hum…”

“Let me know when you’re done. I need you here with me, I don’t want your attention split.”

Any request from the Japanese was an order, even more so when it was related to work, and Chester immediately dropped the cell phone on the couch. He leaned back. He rubbed his face and concealed a yawn between the fingers.

Mike swivelled the chair to face his friend.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Tonight… I really didn’t sleep very well.”

“Do you still have nightmares?”

“No.”

“Chaz…”

Chester admitted.

“Yes, I’m still having nightmares. The fungus infects me and I kill you all, starting with you. Instead of contaminating you, I squeeze your neck and strangle you. Joe is always the last one and he’s laughing like a madman. I don’t like to remember that, Mike…”

“Have you discussed the nightmares with your therapist?”

“I told him once, yes… I can’t always be repeating the same thing, my therapist will want to know how I came up with this story of a green fungus that comes from space. So, I keep hiding those dreams from everyone. And I already know what he’s gonna say to me. He will prescribe me more sleeping pills and everything is fine.”

“You can talk to your therapist without giving the indication that your dreams are inspired by real events. You can’t talk about… our distant friends.”

“I know that, Mike. I know that! But I was always a nerd. And I’ve seen UFOs, when I lived in Arizona. I told that in a recent interview I gave to a radio station…”

Mike raised his head.

“What did you say?”

“I gave an interview to a radio station and I spoke about UFOs. Strange lights in the sky that have no explanation. I told you that story before…”

“And what else, Chaz?”, Mike asked.

“What else what?”

“You don’t keep your mouth shut when someone does the right question. You give all your game away.”

“Hey!”

“Chester Bennington! We agreed that you weren’t going to talk about aliens in the interviews. At least, not in the next few years. Furthermore, you’re having these nightmares and you are clearly vulnerable with what happened to us. It’s influencing you and I know you. When you find empathy in your listener, you confess all your sins. You even describe everything in detail, so that forgiveness is comprehensive and covers all your faults, washing your soul. So, my friend, spill it out. Now you’re going to confess _to me_.”

Cornered, Chester swallowed hard. He bit his lip.

“The interview was very friendly”, he said.

“ _Very_ friendly. How much?”

“It was all right, Spike. We avoid the subject going to X-Files. I spoke of Joe’s participation in one of the episodes of the series. It was cool.”

Mike shook his head.

“And you didn’t tell about some British friends…”

“Uh…”

“Chester!”, Mike shouted.

“What?”, Chester shouted back.

“You didn’t…”

“Tom deLonge likes UFOs and all that alien bullshit. So what? Nobody suspects that Tom deLonge had a more real experience with aliens. Why should they be suspicious of us? Of me?”

“Tom deLonge…”

“Yes, from Blink 182!”

“I know who Tom deLonge is. What else did you tell?”

Chester put the hands together, his arm muscles tense.

“I didn’t go into details. Later on, I heard the interview on the radio and that part was cut. Maybe some censorship, I don’t know… I tried, Spike. I really tr…”

“You talked about the Doctor!”

“I said I was a nerd, that I liked these themes and that people would judge me for saying that kind of nonsense. Jim, the guy who was interviewing me, said that they would never judge me, it was a common subject to many Americans, and that people would understand. I covered the face with my hands, I started thinking. I repeated to myself that I should forget about the TARDIS, that I wouldn’t speak about the TARDIS.”

Remorseful for being too hard on his friend, Mike leaned over and touched his knee.

“It’s all right, Chaz…”

“And I ended up talking about the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. What a great name! I mentioned a journey through time and space, of a Doctor who is a grumpy and a vain Scotsman, about many dangers, and how everything is solved in the end, in a stroke of magic and technology. And Jim turned to me, and he asked me, Doctor Who?... And I laughed out loud and answered, precisely! Then I introduced the X-Files subject and told him I met Duchovny, that he was a Linkin Park fan, that Joe Hahn had collaborate with the series’ special effects personnel before the band. And everything was cool.”

“I don’t know if I get angry with you or if I forgive you.”

“This part of the interview was cut. The guys from the radio must have thought the conversation was too crazy, and they didn’t want to include it on the show.”

“But the recording should exist, somewhere…”

“Yeah, it should be on the radio. I didn’t do anything, Mike. Everything was cool. I didn’t reveal the Doctor’s identity”, Chester groaned. He started biting his nails.

Mike sat on the couch next to him.

“Calm down, buddy.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Hey, I told you, I didn’t know if I get angry or… oh, let’s forget this. You’re having nightmares and I don’t want you to get worse. I want you to stop thinking about this crap, in a repetitive cycle to the point of having your sleep influenced. Forget the Doctor, the TARDIS and the fungi. The adventure ended and everything was fine. Now, we have a song to finish.”

“I’m sorry, Mike. I promise I won’t talk again about the TARDIS, or the Doctor.”

Mike smiled at him.

“I don’t want that either. I want to talk about the Doctor and the TARDIS… with you, with Brad, Dave, Rob, Joe… our private jokes are priceless! Nobody understands what we are saying to each other. It makes us more united when we shared our armoured secrets.”

“Yeah… do you think the Doctor could show up, irritated because I flapped my mouth and he’s going to erase our memory in retaliation? He never liked me, and I never liked him…”

“Nah… The Doctor is certainly busy with his travels… through time and space. We are past for him, by now.”

“And for Clara. I liked her.”

“Me too.”. Mike blushed.

“Tsc tsc tsc… You couldn’t have fallen in love. She has her sugar daddy.”

“Oh, shut up, Chaz! Please. I didn’t fall in love with Clara. If Anna hears you, she might think it’s true. And now she is so susceptible, because of the pregnancy… Don’t get me into trouble!”. Mike stood up. He went to the computer and hit the space bar. A partially finished melodic line appeared. “Let’s go to work. They don’t pay us to have useless conversations about aliens.”

“Right.”

Chester stood up too, pulled his pants up. He was thinner. Mike noticed that change in his friend’s physique.

“Hey, Chaz?”

“Yep?”

“If you have nightmares… will you give me a call?”

“All right. Can I call you at dawn? Even with Anna…?”

“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Chester! But Mike is there for him.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> The vast and endless Universe.


	39. The vast and endless Universe

Clara entered the TARDIS enthusiastically. Her eyes shone like two dark suns, and she was so happy that she touched the Doctor’s feelings – but he would never confess his tenderness, for the sake of posture, personality and stubbornness. There was a diamond-hard shell, and there was a melted core of boiling lava. And two hearts were beating within that different body.

The Doctor closed the door, decorating her ways that exuded joy, life, and love. He smiled at her discretely and because he knew she wasn’t looking. She saw her watching the red and yellow flags that still decorated the TARDIS. She spun and faced him.

“Well, Doctor… since we have the enormous privilege of owning a time machine that is also able to move in space, covering several dimensions at the same time, we can take a trip to Vienna, capital of Austria, and go to watch your precious football game between Germany and Spain, to decide the 2008 European championship.”

He replied:

“Spain won, one-nil. Goal by Fernando Torres.”

“Oh…”. Clara tilted her head slightly to the left. “You already knew that the result would be that one. The decoration was for the winners.”

“I already knew”, the Doctor admitted approaching the ship’s console. “It was a remarkably interesting match with some… mishaps. It wasn’t fungi, or daleks, but the German locker room experienced some stir. But it isn’t up to me, in this regeneration, to deal with that problem. That remains for a future ‘me’.”

“Another companion”, she murmured, with pity.

“Another adventure.”

Clara removed the hair from her face with a determined shrug.

“Oh, but what really matters is what we had, Doctor. Milton Keynes was wonderful! And this adventure of ours ended very well. We defeated the avaza fungi, we stopped a dalek invasion, Joe and Rob were totally cured, Linkin Park played their music, and their show will be engraved in the annals of music history. Literally! After all, everything was filmed for posterity and the show will be released on a DVD. A friend of mine had that disk, and one day he managed to convince me to go to his house to see it. I remember that, at the time, I thought it was an unforgettable night and that Linkin Park’s performance must had remained in the memory of all those who were there. I remember wishing to be also in that show to see the band live, to know what it would be like to be with that feeling forever kept in my soul.”

“You wish has been fulfilled, Clara Oswald.”

“Thank you, Doctor! What a show, hum? Tell me…”

“Very good”, he answered, laconic.

“You had enjoyed it!”

“I enjoy music”, the Doctor admitted, in a grunt.

“Of course, you enjoy music. And don’t forget your promise. Linkin Park records alongside Ludwig van Beethoven’s, in your discotheque.”

“At the next stop. I always keep my promises. After all, I have all the time in my favour. And I will get _all_ the Linkin Park records.”

“You will get…”

“I never use money. You know that Clara.”

“Oh… right. I often forget that detail. And how do you plan _to get_ all Linkin Park records?”

“I have my methods.”

She ran her hands over the console. The TARDIS navigated the Universe, somewhere.

“An alien magician who travels inside a blue box, the fungi that are sound thieves and Linkin Park. A perfect adventure, I would say. No one died. Just this time, everybody lives… A happy ending.”. She exchanged a brief look with the Timelord and noticed an unusual flash. She covered the lips with her fingers. “Oh, you have that expression, Doctor. Someone is going to die. But not now… One of them. One of them will die sooner than expected. Who?”

The Doctor protested weakly:

“Clara, please…”

She came closer, grabbed his arm. She asked, distressed and impertinent:

“Which one? Will it happen soon?”

The Doctor replied, in a calm tone to appease her:

“Not soon. A few years after Milton Keynes. The career of your dear friends will go on, and it will be dazzling. Linkin Park will continue to be loved by their admirers. Their music will live forever, even when they all reunite in that place where you like to keep the human souls. As great as Beethoven!”

She risked the guess.

“It’s Chester… I know it’s Chester. He’s too intense.”

The Doctor didn’t clarify her.

“Can’t we go and save him? You _know_ when Chester is going to leave us. We use the TARDIS and…”

“Clara, that is not possible”, the Doctor said, ruthlessly.

“Why not? Ah, it’s one of those stupid fixed points in time!”

A little anger made her cry. Clara wiped away the two tears wetting her cheeks with the fingers, in a quick gesture.

“Why won’t you save me? You are jealous! You are still jealous of him… he never liked you and you never liked him. Silly old man! He’s right, you know. You’re a silly old man.”

“Clara…”

“What if it was me, Doctor? If you knew the day of my death? Didn’t you want to save me?”

“I know every day of your death, Clara. You have surrendered the life of your echoes for me and I know perfectly well what it means to lose someone we love, admire and want to be with us forever.”. He put the hands on her shoulders, Clara fell silent. She had wet and pleading eyes. “Chester will be very happy, and he will have an incredibly good life. He knows he is loved.”

“Until the end? Is he going to have a good like, full of love… until the end?”

“Full of music and love. I promise you, Clara Oswald.”

“And you never fail a promise, Doctor…”

“Whenever someone leaves life, that is a sad day”, he declared. “But while they lived, all their days were moments well lived, of happiness, of sadness, of triumph and defeat, of learning. Of suspension and brightness. Like the stars in the Universe, between splendour and darkness. There are moments that hurt, that injure, that destroy. Yes, it’s true. These moments, however, should make us stronger, more resilient, and confident in our worth. Strength and weakness. The cycle is perpetual until one day is interrupted.”

“I understand… but it still… in a way, unfair and irritating. I wanted to do more, and it seems like we never do enough.”

“And we have a time machine. We can visit your friend whenever we want!”

“I want…”

The Doctor walked away, raising his arms. He muttered:

“Well, well, Clara Oswald… Let’s move on to the next adventure! Enough of Linkin Park.”

She watched him press the console switches, watching the ship’s route on the monitor. His thick eyebrows frowned, the lines in his face were creased in a harsh and upset expression. He showed all his impatient and coldness. She approached slowly, charmingly.

“You are definitely jealous, Doctor.”

“I’m not jealous of a little lad! Nonsense!”, he replied, indignant. “I am a Timelord over two thousand years old. Before Chester Charles Bennington knew what music was, I already played my electric guitar to entertain the great halls of Ichtyalin!”

Clara watched him, amused by his overreaction. So human, so predictable, so deliciously vulnerable. And suddenly, the Timelord with over two thousand years old knew the name of Linkin Park’s singer, full name, family name included.

“Hum… Ichtyalin? It seems to me an excellent place to visit next. What kind of songs are heard in these halls? It is classical music? It is Rock music? Punk? Jazz? I don’t see you playing Jazz music, although you know how to improvise very well… in any department. It will be different music, no doubt.”

“The great halls of Ichtyalin have been swallowed by a supermassive black hole. The impossible sounds that were heard there attracted… unwanted guests.”

“Other kind of sound thieves?”

The Doctor lowered a level.

“But we have a time machine…”

“How about a visit to a more romantic place?”, he suggested.

Clara smiled at him.

“Show me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clara and the Doctor are ready for the next adventure.
> 
> Next and LAST chapter:  
> And let's end with an afterword.


	40. And let's end with an afterword

The party for the presentation of new bands was busy and lively. There were many special guests, among them film actors, powerful Hollywood producers and directors, visual artists, painters and even music stars. The most famous of those were Mike Shinoda and Chester Bennington of Linkin Park. While the first one passed relatively incognito and could enjoy the champagne being served, accompanied with delicious _canapés_ that included caviar, salmon and European cheeses, the second one didn’t rest a second, and he was requested by countless people who wanted a selfie, an autograph and the vocalist’s attention.

From a far, Mike kept an eye on his friend, enjoying the buzz that surrounded him. He was pleased to see Chester’s satisfaction to be the target of so much benign flattery, his pleasant smiles, his selfless availability, but he was vigilant to the first signs of saturation. Of course, Chester was never openly hostile or disdainful, his cordial nature prevented him from being gross with whom, deep down, was only showing fervent admiration, but Mike was trained to recognize the exact moment when Chester, inside himself, was begging for space to breathe.

Every now and then, celebrities needed that – just to breathe.

He put the half-empty glass on the tray that passed beside him to collect used tableware, he wiped the mouth with a napkin, ran the tongue over his teeth to minimally clean his gums, and he went to kidnap Chester from two rising movie stars, two young blond women very pretty that were falling apart in supressed passion for the Linkin Park singer. A little more and they would make an indecent invitation. Mike also knew how to recognize these signs.

The two men went to the terrace of the mansion where the party was taking place. Mike looked at his watch. For him, he would leave in a few minutes. He was bored. There was no one in that house that he didn’t already know, and they all had a futile and tedious conversation. For Chester was always fine and any excuse was a reason to celebrate something.

The night was cool, but pleasant. There was a slight breeze that brought the scent of the azaleas from the garden.

Chester leaned against the terrace traverse and looked up at the sky. There were thousands of stars. He was breathing and Mike knew he had rescued him, again. He felt incredibly good because he was still beside his friend and Chester was still allowing him to remain in that protective position. And they were both breathing, in silence, leaning on the traverse.

Chester said:

“Are we going to see the Doctor again?”

Mike replied:

“Most likely. He has a time machine. He can come back whenever he wants. Imagine that we saw him, in the past… the Doctor may had visited us when we were just kids and we don’t remember that encounter.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Chaz! Watch your language.”

“That sucks… Do you think he came to visit us when we were kids?”

“I don’t know. It could have happened, as I told you.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“What if you were just a baby? You couldn’t remember it, for sure. And your parents won’t mention the fact since the Doctor is always after some alien that he must fight to prevent the destruction of the Earth. Therefore, eventually, when you were a baby, and your parents were just a footnote to him. As we were, in the case of the fungi that fed on sound.”

“Ah… But he enjoyed our show at Milton Keynes.”

“Yeah, of course he did! The Doctor loves music. He should have played with us. We had kept that memory, the Doctor on film playing with Linkin Park, in addition to Joe’s drawings. Have you seen them? Joe says that one day he will release a comic book with this story.”

“Do you think the Doctor will mind?”

“I don’t think so, man. Joe is going to create a story adapted from the adventure we experienced. It won’t even be the same adventure. Joe wants to be the hero; he doesn’t want to be the victim. It would be… a little embarrassing to represent himself with a disgusting green helmet in his head provoked by a parasitic fungus that is slowly devouring him.”

Chester confessed:

“I would like, one day, to travel in that blue box that belongs to the Doctor.”

“To travel in the TARDIS…”

“Yep, to travel in the TARDIS. I miss hearing that sound the ship makes, you know. That scrape, that murmur, between horrible and perfect. It can creep us up to the marrow, as when someone scratches a slate with steel nails, but it isn’t an irritating sound. Before getting on our nerves, at that specific point where we can lose our temper, it becomes a melody and makes us… happy. Yes, I think that’s it. The sound of the TARDIS fills our heart, doesn’t it?”

“That’s very beautiful, Chaz.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Spike”, he scoffed with a grimace.

“You want to be like Clara? Kind of… a companion?”

Chester frowned.

“I don’t think so. Being alone in the box with the old man… and the old man likes women.”

“He’s an alien. He doesn’t discriminate, Chaz.”

“Uh, Shinoda! What a pervert!”

“Hey, man. I don’t think that accompanying the Doctor in the TARDIS implies that kind of… involvement. It’s adventures. And that’s it… just adventures.”. Mike bent the neck to hide himself.

“You’re blushing, man.”

“I am? You’re seeing things. It’s dark, you can’t tell if I’m blushing or not.

“I know you. You’re blushing.”

“All right. I’m blushing”, Mike admitted, chewing on the words.

After a short pause, Chester said:

“That could be too.”

“What?”

“To be involved with the old man.”

“Chaz, are you insane?”

“Sex with an alien… I never tried it.”

“And you won’t try it!”

“Are you jealous of the old man now?”

“Have you been drinking? You’re just talking bullshit.”

“Drunk or not, I always said a lot of bullshit.”

“No, I’m not jealous of the Doctor. Rubbish… Have I ever shown that I’m jealous of whoever is with you?”

“Eh…”

“Chester don’t you dare answer me. It was a rhetorical question.”

“All right. I won’t answer.”

“Let’s rewind and forget that this part of the conversation existed. You were saying that you would like to travel in the TARDIS.”

Chester laughed and his smile was beautiful. Much more authentic that any smile he gave to anyone who had been nice to him at the party. And Mike knew that this was the proof of their special friendship.

“Yeah, why not? To travel in the TARDIS! Just imagine what I could see, Spike. Out there, among the stars!”. He made a broad gesture with his arm, indicating the immense sky dotted with small points of light. The Milky Way in its starry splendour.”

Mike enthused and added:

“The last planet in our galaxy. The birth of a black hole. Wormholes and comets. An alien race that worships music as divine and you will be their god.”

“I liked that!”. And he laughed louder. “Me singing on a flying stage and being worshiped as a god.”

“My friend, I believe that already happens here on Earth…”

Chester put the arm around Mike’s shoulders, pulled him close. He admitted, half seriously, half amusingly:

“I feel too mortal and imperfect. How can I be a god with so many flaws, defects, and cracks? I’m all torn up inside and a set of broken pieces on the outside.”

“Aren’t we all imperfect, Chazy Chaz?”

Mike leaned against him and hugged him too.

They contemplated the night, in silence.

Suddenly, in the unfathomable black cloak a white streak appeared, that faded in seconds.

“Look, a shooting star!”

“It’s the TARDIS, Mike!”, Chester exclaimed. “It’s the TARDIS! Did you see, Mike?”

Mike left a kiss in his head. He loved when Chester was adorable, natural, and simple, a naïve boy who believed in fairy tales, fantasy dreams, in aliens inside a blue box, friendly monsters and landscapes decorated with rainbows.

“Yes, my friend. It’s the TARDIS. Wave to the Doctor.”

“You too, Mike.”

And the two said goodbye to the stars, holding each other, shouting and jumping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the adventure ends here.  
> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
